Urashima The Flood
by Omega Warrior 42
Summary: Summary: Powerful and noble at heart, he willingly lives through a painful hell for them. But when a Fox stumbles on the truth, the truth sets more than just them free... Kei x Kit, rated M for a bit of everything. *CH. 2 REVISED, CH. 16 UP!
1. Ch1: Deep Fried Electric Sheep

URASHIMA THE FLOOD, a fan fiction by Omega Warrior 42

Summary: Powerful and noble, he willingly lives through a painful hell for them. But when a Fox stumbles on the truth, the truth sets more than just them free… Kei x Kit, rated M for good reason

Disclaimer and Notes: This is AU only in the sense that Keitaro knows advanced martial arts to a greater extent (and much sooner) than he does in the regular series. I don't use major OCs if I can help it, so most or all characters, names, places, original plot points, some passing references, and assorted gibberish are owned by the makers of Love Hina. Also, though this is pretty much strictly a Love Hina fic, I use many random references to other works not my own for small details, chapter title ideas, etc. Hence, I apologize to: Bungie; the late Frank Zappa and the late Douglas Adams; the makers of Red Dwarf, Ghostbusters, Final Fantasy, Cowboy Bebop, Samurai Champloo, and Trigun; and probably others as well.

If there is something in what I write that you do not like or have a problem with…well, there's really nothing I can do about that! Just enjoy it for what it is if you can. Read and review at your own leisure.

*UPDATED NOTES: Hello, all. As I work on (stall for time in writing) the remaining chapters of the story, I've decided to return and revise the ones I've posted as well. Expect changes as little as a fixed typo here and there and as big as entirely new and expanded scenes. Enjoy.

Chapter 1: Deep Fried Electric Sheep, Part 7 and Forty-two Thirds

Keitaro Urashima, second-year _ronin_ and male manager of the all-girls inn-turned-dormitory the Hinata-Sou, was used to pain.

Indeed, in the last year or so it had been his daily companion, introduced to him in new and inventive ways as a direct result of his new-found position as the owner and manager of a residence full of very touchy, volatile, and often paranoid women and girls his age and younger. Meek, gentle, and clumsy when he got nervous (which he usually was around the opposite sex), his work as a male _kanrinin_ of an all-female dormitory was rarely done and never easy on him. Truth be told, his existence was a tenacious and continuous hell. Saddled with most of the chores for seven people, his studies, and the painful consequences of having two left feet around a harshly critical and vindictive group of tenants, he was perhaps the most pushed-around male in the whole of Japan.

Keitaro, however, was no weakling. Quite the opposite in fact.

For starters, he had mastered advanced martial arts at an early age, and had only improved his skills with time. In spite of his own peaceful nature, he had the spark of a warrior in him that was fueled by the flame of his tenacious spirit. It was this hidden strength and skill, in fact, that kept him alive. He had been severely injured more often and in more ways than most people ever experience in a lifetime during his tenure as _kanrinin _alone; he had endured more personal pain both physically and emotionally than most people could survive, and had done it in secret and in silence.

Not once had he sought to defend himself against his tenant's all-too-frequent wrath, though it frequently ended with him being literally hit halfway across town. He was incredibly strong for his average-looking size and build, and far more skilled at what he did than he ever got credit for. He had repaired or rebuilt much of the inn on his own several times over, as his body had been sent through walls, doors, windows, and other parts of the structure more times than he could count. Everyday, he faced this hell and kept going, refusing to give up or turn on those he counted as his friends as much as he considered them his responsibility, whatever they might think of him in the process.

Keitaro Urashima had no desire to cause harm to his six tenants, and willingly bore the pain they freely dealt to his existence so they wouldn't have to bear it in their own.

The six girls living under his roof, however, had far fewer qualms and concerns about returning the favor.

To Naru Narusegawa, herself a second-year _ronin_ like Keitaro, he was at best a tolerable friend and study partner, and at worst a stupid, clumsy, perverted _baka_ put on this Earth to (she believed) make her life that much more miserable. To Motoko Aoyama, an up-and-coming kendoist swordmaiden of the _Shinmei-ryu _school, he was male and barely tolerable as such, if not damned entirely from the outset. To the much younger and hyper-energetic genius foreigner Kaolla Su, Keitaro was a convenient playmate, target, and test subject. To Sarah McDougall, he was a hapless dork over twice her age that happened to be a friend of her adoptive father, who had brought her to live at the Hinata so she would have a more or less permanent place to live out her childhood. To Shinobu Maehara, the shy young resident chef of the dormitory, he was the object of an unreachable but ever-growing crush, a _sempai _she dearly wished could be more but knew deep down would never be. She was, perhaps, the only one in the bunch that would freely admit to giving a damn about his well-being; though her deeper and more personal feelings embarrassed her to no end in his presence, she was the only one that sympathized with him for how the others treated him on a daily basis.

Of all the residents, there remained one that stood out for being the most on-the-fence toward Keitaro: the free-spirited but frequently drunk beauty Mitsune "Kitsune" Konno. Unlike the others, she was not at all shy about flirting with him (or anyone else, for that matter); even though her mind usually was set on either conning money out of him or playing a practical joke at his expense, she was never one to _directly _cause the hapless _kanrinin _personal harm and often welcomed his company. Her cleverness was equal to her beauty, but so was her laziness. Unlike Naru or Motoko, she found his incredibly bad luck in getting himself into awkward positions and situations with young women to be amusing as hell. Whatever else she really felt about him in her heart of hearts she kept (mostly) to herself.

Such was life as Keitaro knew it: a young man playing housekeeper, punching bag, target, repairman, wallet, and a half-dozen other roles for six girls under one roof.

Then one night, in the span of perhaps half an hour, everything about it began to change.

* * *

It was already getting late as Keitaro continued to sweep the second floor hallway one Friday evening near the end of the summer. Though he was, for the moment, free from the extra burden of his studies (as everyone was on break around this time of year), life had still been pretty rough for him lately. He'd been relatively lucky so far today in that he was nearly done the chores he had left to accomplish and no one had put him through a wall for anything he had done, at least not up to this point in time.

Unfortunately, as he bent over to adjust a dustbin, his rare bout of luck was about to run out for the evening. From a room down the hall behind him, Kaolla Su crept out with an oversized barrel-shaped contraption in tow, using it to take careful aim at the _kanrinin_'s exposed rear end. Though he heard the loud _CHOONG _made by her newly designed Super-Powered Mark II Laundry Launcher's firing mechanism, it wasn't until the mass of hot bedsheets, brightly colored shirts, and socks still smoldering near the edges from the blast hit him that he realized what the sound had been. By then, he was flying face-first through the banister, tumbling down a flight of stairs to land unceremoniously with his face on top of something warm and somewhat soft to the touch, covered in cloth and only too familiar to his senses.

As he got up, he realized that the cloth was the front of a shirt that hadn't been in the bundle that had hit him. Unfortunately, he also discovered that the shirt belonged to (and was being worn by) a startled and very irate Naru.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, YOU STUPID PERVERTED _BAKA_!" she immediately yelled at the rapidly backpedaling _kanrinin_. Not waiting for an explanation, her fist hooked at high speed to connect with his jaw. The raw force of the impact sent him flying backwards; burnt linens flew off his back in all directions as he sailed past them toward the doorway leading to the inn's hot springs.

Or rather, toward the door itself.

As his body ripped through the barrier in a flurry of wood and glass, his near-horizontal flight promptly ended in a pool of steaming hot water with the rounded end of a rock wedged painfully into the small of his back. Dazed from this latest battering, he made the mistake of looking around to get his bearings as he sat up. He saw a pair of long bare legs first, the kind that suggested the athletic nature of their owner; surprised, he looked up to see the toweled form of Motoko glaring at him, her sheathed sword already in hand. Not hesitating to ask why he was suddenly there, Motoko reacted as she always had in any questionable situation involving the hapless manager: on pure instinct.

"URASHIMA!" she yelled at him as he tried to stumble to his feet, "YOUR PERVERSIONS TRULY KNOW NO BOUNDS! PREPARE TO MEET YOUR END!" Her sword, the _katana _named _Shisui_, was in motion even as she spoke the last words, a charged blast of her _ki _focused and expelled through the shape of the metal. The tip sliced across his chest at a precision angle that maximized the length of the cut; the blast that followed its path rocketed him backward at a steep angle through the fence right behind him.

The ground receded below him as he flew in the air. Fifty feet up, time slowed in his mind, making the world around him seem to flow almost as though he was underwater. Shards of wood tumbled as they flew aimlessly in his wake. The pain was only slowly beginning to register with his mind, its familiarity all too apparent to his consciousness. He almost laughed to himself, as he noticed his broom, miraculously still in his hand; as drops of his own blood floated in the air in front of his face, he found himself thinking about the angle of his flight, realizing he would not land very far away this time. To his mind, that was a good thing; at the very least, he wouldn't have far to walk tonight.

In the brief moment of freefall, he considered what it might have been like to act in his own defense as he could have easily done; Kaolla's creative missle might have still connected, but he could have easily dodged or blocked Naru or Motoko, even dazed as he'd been at the time. Yet in the split second his body had wanted to react, he'd fought his instincts instead, as he'd always done.

His musings halted promptly, along with the broom handle, the arm he was holding it with, and finally the rest of his body, in a wide gap between two branches thirty feet off the ground. Pain lanced through his arm as he felt his shoulder pop out of its socket; his hand, still clutching the handle that had wedged against the branches, flew open with the sudden shock in the limb's root. He dropped almost straight down, barely registering two further stabs of pain in the back of his thigh as it connected with the jagged ends of a branch below him. The tree limb snapped immediately under his weight, and he dropped the rest of the way to the ground with parts of it buried in his flesh underneath him.

The last thing he saw, before the symphony of pain overwhelmed his consciousness and made the world slip into blackness, was the tip of the broom handle embedding itself next to his head in the dirt.

* * *

Friday nights usually didn't end this early, at least not for Kitsune. Yet tonight, she'd miscalculated her funds at what was (to her, anyway) the least desirable time, and her excursion through the town's bars ended hours earlier than it otherwise would, with her less drunk than she might have liked.

Still, the decision to head back to the Hinata, however disappointing, was not just because of her finances (or lack thereof) at the time. It had been one of those nights where the company was unusually lacking, and what company was to be found out and about hadn't been the type she cared to associate with. The last bar she'd been in had been the worst; there'd been a group of surly characters that most people wouldn't want to meet in broad daylight, let alone run into alone late on a Friday night. A few of them had been giving her looks even she hadn't been comfortable with, and she'd left soon after they'd arrived.

As she half walked, half stumbled along a shaded path leading back to her place of residence, she aimlessly thought about her own existence in a bemused way, and the situations she seemed to find herself in as it went. Her "career" as a freelance writer (which mostly involved making a few extra Yen writing the occasional article when she felt like it, just to look like or claim she was actually doing something) suited her well, but wasn't always enough to cover her lifestyle. As for her other main source of income…

At that moment, she was pretty sure she had just heard it crashing through a tree somewhere off the path to her right.

She chuckled to herself. '_I wonder which one got to him this time?_' she thought. Indeed, she had no question as to what the noise had been; Keitaro had more airtime without an airplane than a thousand lemmings got in their lifetimes combined. Of course, _she'd _never sent him flying like that, at least not personally, though she had often set the poor guy up for it to amuse herself every so often, or at least in the attempt to finagle a bit of extra cash from him by tricking him into "copping a feel" on her, as they say.

For a moment, she paused. It had been a relatively boring night so far, and a little company back to the inn wouldn't be such a bad idea. A sudden spark of curiosity, too, ignited in her mind: though she'd always seen him at the beginning or middle of his impromptu trips over town, she'd never seen him land. It had been something of a running joke in the Hinata that the guy was more or less immune to harm. Hell, he faced down fists, swords, secret techniques, haywire experiments and explosives, and plenty more on a daily basis, and spent as much time airborne as he did on the ground. He'd always return looking relatively unhurt after being hit cross-country through a wall, and did it so often that Kitsune had begun to wonder how he managed it herself.

Of course, she could always just _ask _him, but where was the fun in that? Better to take the more challenging route, and figure it out by observation and deduction; at the very least, it would be a _little _more fun than spending the rest of a Friday evening with nothing good to do!

She made her way toward the sound of the crash. There were quite a few trees this far off the path, so she had to pick around them carefully and quietly in the dark. Though clouds were forming on the horizon, the moon was shining brightly that night; even under the cover of the trees, there was just enough light to make her way through without running into anything or tripping along the way. She soon happened upon one spot that looked especially promising: a break in the tree cover that let the moonlight shine in like a dim spotlight over one small area. She giggled to herself, imagining the hapless _kanrinin_ crashing through the branches to land in a disheveled heap, twigs and debris in his unruly hair with a dazed expression on his face. A few ideas about how she could tease him already began to pop into her head as she made her way closer to the area.

They left promptly, however, when she actually spotted him.

She was still about twenty feet away from where he lay when she began to realize something was horribly wrong. His right knee was splayed outward and upward, his ankle twisted at an unnatural angle underneath him. A large broken branch lay underneath him; she could already see a small, dark wet pool begin to form under his left thigh where parts of the wooden tree limb had embedded themselves into his thigh. His right shoulder was unnaturally low, the arm itself twisted almost backward. A huge, clean-edged gash across his chest dripped blood freely, quickly staining the now-torn remains his dark-colored shirt. Almost inexplicably, a broom he used nearly as often as his trusty mop stood almost straight up in the dirt next to his head.

His jaw was slightly swollen, and blood dripped from his lip freely. His eyes were closed, and he wasn't moving. He barely seemed to be even breathing. It would be a miracle if he was even alive.

Shock and sudden anguish gripped Mitsune like a vice, bringing her to her knees. "K-Kei!" she stammered, trying to get up and move closer to him. Her stomach lurched like a broken amusement park ride, the combination of alcohol and the sight of someone she'd known and lived with for over a year lying in such a horrific state triggering off waves of nausea. Diving toward the nearest tree just in time, her stomach emptied its contents into the dirt at its base in one massive spray. For half a minute, her body continued to wretch until she felt weak from the heaves. Crawling away, she peered out at the broken, bleeding form of her _kanrinin's _motionless form in horror.

She began to shake, wanting to cry, to run and get help, _anything_ but stay and stare at the wretched sight before her. She almost fell backwards, however, when his eyes shot open and his body lurched forward to a sitting position. Relief washed over her; he was still alive!

Impossibly, he was starting to stumble up to his feet. His eyes clenched shut and his teeth gritted in pain, though he barely made a noise as he rose using his only good arm and the trunk of the tree for support. A moment later, his back was leaned (with a visible jolt of pain) against the tree, his bleeding left leg supporting his weight at a heavy angle. Mitsune wanted to rush out to help him, but the will to move left her when he awoke. That part of her mind she so often ignored, her conscience, held her there. '_Watch and see what you have ignored for so long_," it told her, reflecting her desire to know his secret of survival back at her like a curse.

So she watched, and learned.

She watched him as he grabbed the two sticks still embedded in his thigh, wincing as he yanked _several inches_ of blood-stained wood with a sickening squelch. She watched him barely flinch as he did this, as though the pain was nothing new to him. She saw something like an afterimage glow form around his hand as it gripped the still-bleeding holes; this time, he almost grunted with pain, as though he were holding a branding iron to his own flesh.

From where she stood, she could see the wounds as they were, two holes the size of bullet wounds in his leg. When his blood-covered hand moved away from them, however, both were gone. She blinked, stunned. '_What the hell did he…?_'

Before she could ponder what he'd done, he began doing the same to his chest. Again, his hand glowed as it ran the length of the foot-long oozing gash; once more, his face twisted in renewed agony. To her shocked amazement, the wound stopped bleeding immediately, as though it was closing itself up!

'_What is he doing!_' she thought to herself, unable to comprehend what she was witnessing. Slowly but surely, in front of her eyes, he was systematically addressing each injury in turn. Squatting down, he straightened the twisted ankle, rubbing it slightly a moment in the same manner before testing it. To her surprise, it was quickly able to bear his weight without too much difficulty; by all rights, it should have been broken or sprained, the kind of injury that would keep the average person laid up for weeks! His jaw was next, a small twitch in his eyes the only indication of pain she could see as he wiped his bleeding lip clean and stroked the swollen area until the angry bulge had subsided to nothing more than a fading red welt.

He stood up and away from the tree, wiping his hand off on the bark. She saw him look at his dislocated shoulder and visibly sigh to himself. "Figures," she thought she heard him say before he began propping his right arm straight against the trunk.

Her stomach lurched all over again as she realized what he was about to do. '_Oh, no…he can't be serio—_'

A sickeningly wet pop and his heavily strangled cry of pain accompanied the swift rejointing of his dislocated shoulder. His good hand glowed again, clutching the area of the joint itself; the cry itself briefly became a muted howl. She saw his knees buckle under him, and he fell to them with his re-socketed arm still propped against (and sliding down) the trunk.

She shuddered violently, remembering a time in her childhood when she'd dislocated her left shoulder. Pulling it out had hurt, but putting it back had been unbelievably excruciating. She'd nearly passed out when the doctor had reset the ball in its socket, and her shoulder had been sore and hard to use for a week afterwards.

Keitaro, though, could now move the arm freely, and his right hand now moved over an area of his lower back near the base of his ribcage. It glowed as his left had done, and he shuddered involuntarily as it touched several spots on his back. He did the same on the left, and finally stumbled to his feet once more, looking exhausted but otherwise uninjured.

Apart from the holes and the blood staining his clothing, he _looked_ fine.

Tears welled in her eyes as she saw him sigh and sit under his tree, the broom handle pulled from the ground and across his lap in a casual manner of rest. He no longer showed any pain on his face, though he _had _to be feeling it still. He sat silently, almost casually, as though what he had just been through was nothing new to him at all; he didn't call for help, or cry, or even act like he'd been hurt. He seemed to just sit and collect himself again, almost as though…

'…_as though it had never happened,_' she realized to her own horror. Suddenly, the truth of Keitaro's reality hit her square in the face: he _had_ been through this before. He'd been through it many, _many_ times, and had come back acting as though nothing had happened to him.

He wasn't immune to harm; he was just good at fixing it up before he got back.

Belatedly, she realized that if this was what he went through every time he was punched skyward, then the pain he must be going through on a daily basis was beyond all comprehension. She'd seen car wrecks where people had died from less, and done so in agony. How could he _do _that, and say nothing?

Worst of all, she realized, it was his tenants that were putting him through it. That included herself, in spite of never being the one to physically hit him; she had set him up for this very fate on an almost daily basis, out of a desire for money or entertainment. The thought that her own actions would cause anyone that level of agony, much less someone as hapless and kind-hearted as Keitaro, made her stagger sideways.

Unfortunately, it also made her stagger right out from behind her cover.

She saw his head whip around, startled by her appearance. "Who's there?" she heard him ask, already on his feet with the broom in hand. Guilt and panic overtook her mind; she turned and ran back toward the way she had come, not waiting to see if he followed her or not. She couldn't think as she stumbled half-blindly back through the trees, only try to get away. She couldn't handle this, not yet; she couldn't look him in the face, not after what she'd just seen him go through. The clouds overhead grew ever more ominous; thunder began rolling in the distance, announcing a coming rain. She couldn't see where she was going, didn't really care. Single-mindedly, she rushed back toward what she hoped would be the "safety" of the inn, where she could at least hide herself before he got back or spotted her again. She couldn't face him, not now.

Suddenly, the trees broke, and she was back on the path. Unfortunately, she quickly found out that she was not alone on it.

A fist to her stomach halted her mid-stride. Gasping, she doubled over and fell backwards. A foot connected with her side, sending her sprawling face first into the ground.

Coughing from the unexpected assault, she looked up to see a group of men she recognized from earlier that night, ones she had gone well out of her way to avoid like the plague. They must have been following her, because when she'd reappeared on the path they'd been waiting for her.

Now she was caught, winded and already in a bad state of mind, in the middle of their gang. A total of eight partly ale-sodden, lecherously leering faces surrounded and circled her with a dangerous, animalistic look in their eyes. Their leader, a surly and ugly-looking bastard built like (and closely resembling) a heavy brick shit-house, jeered at her misfortune cruelly. "That wasn't very _polite_ of ya ta take off on us like that, _pretty thang_," he snarled through a drawling sneer. "Me 'n ma boys were jes lookin' ta be enjoyin' yer _company_, and we don't take th' _cold shoulder_ too kindly, DO WE!" The others hooted and wolf-whistled their agreement. "So we came after ya ta _fix_ that…an' this time, _we insist_."

Mitsune couldn't think. She was surrounded, stunned, and now mortally afraid to top it all off. These weren't the type of people you could reason with, or easily get away from; they were more the sort to get _what_ they wanted, _when_ they wanted it, by whatever means they _felt_ like getting it.

Right now, they wanted _her_, and chances were they'd take what they wanted from her if they had to kill her to do it. In all likelihood, they'd kill her one way or the other without a second thought, and probably enjoy doing it.

Bitter irony, that.

The one in front of her was already moving toward her, like a predator about to pounce on its prey. She opened her mouth to scream…

But he beat her to it.

To her surprise, he stopped mid-lunge, eyes crossing and voice squealing like a soprano, clutching his own groin. As he dropped to his knees, his scream was swiftly silenced as the rounded end of a smooth wooden pole twirled and reversed from between his legs to come crashing down over the back of his head. The thug dropped like a stone, out cold; behind him stood the silhouette of the pole's wielder, his identity concealed in the swiftly deepening darkness.

The figure growled in a low, dangerous voice, "You…will…_not_…_**touch her!**_"

Their leader blinked, turning to face this new threat angrily. "The _fuck _do ya think ya are, ya shit!" He nodded at the three thugs standing nearest the newcomer, saying, "Kill 'im."

The nearest, and biggest, of the group moved to grab him, only to discover he'd already moved out of the way. The handle of the pole struck the top of his fingers first, breaking several of them; before the heavyset thug could register the sudden pain, the other end of the pole hit the side of his head with enough force to snap something attached to it off in a flurry of splinters. The bristly-looking end flew off into a bush; the thug dropped like a sack of potatoes on top of the one already on the ground.

Dropping the broken end, the figure switched to hand-to-hand as the next two thugs moved in. One tried to punch him to the left, the other to kick him from the right. The figure moved forward, grabbing the flying fist and sending the thug stumbling into his partner's kick, which caught him in the ribs and sent him stumbling back. The figure lashed out extremely quickly at the latter while the first was stunned, hitting him about five or six times with his fists, palms, and fingertips before he could blink. As he stumbled back, the figure's foot slammed on top of his knee, breaking it. The foot doubled back, kicking the thug in the chest twice and sending him into sprawling unconsciousness. By then the other thug had recovered, and was already about to tackle the man from behind. The figure turned, however, and delivered a punch to a pressure point near the base of the thug's ribs, packing the full force of a full-swing strike in the space of an inch.

The criminal crumpled at his feet, his entire side alight with paralyzing pain.

The entire thing happened in the space of about fifteen seconds, in which the remaining three thugs and their leader had thought to pull out their weapons and surround him. The one in front had a long, serrated hunting knife, while the one behind had donned spiked brass knuckles; to his right side, the third had pulled a length of heavy iron chain, while the leader sported a heavy bar of iron. The leader was now royally pissed; in his mind whoever this bastard was, he'd make sure he was dead. The knifeholder moved first, followed a fraction of a second later by the spiked fist of the second. The chain moved third, arcing to wrap around the figures neck; the leader raised his bar like a cudgel to bludgeon the figure's brains in.

Their target was, in less than a second, faced with attacks on all four sides. But the man only had to deal with one: the first attacker.

Instead of blocking or dodging into one of the other attacks, he stepped _forward_, into and just to the side of the oncoming knife's attack. Like lightning, the figure's hands raised, open-palmed, into the thug's wrist, lifting it slightly as it moved forward but not stopping it in the slightest. At the same time, he spun at the hips, his hands turning to grip the wrist the way one might grip a sword handle for a two-handed vertical swing. Indeed, that was exactly what the figure did with the thug's forearm, sending it (knife extended and pointing slightly downwards) flying straight _past _him and into the opposite shoulder of the brass-knuckled thug's attack. Said brass knuckles, meanwhile, connected with the knifeman's face as he continued to fly forward into it.

The chain of the third thug was only half a second slower than the first two; in the space of that half-second, the intended target of the third thug's swing (the figure's neck) had been replaced with the now-flailing right foot of the first. The leader had been slowest of the four; it wasn't until his pipe's swing was already past the point of no return that he realized whose head it was about to strike. To his sudden horror, the third was pulled clean off his balance toward the swiftly growing tangle of bodies before him by his own chain, bringing his head straight into the oncoming path of the iron bar!

The leader blinked as his final member fell in the growing heap in front of him, finding himself very suddenly alone against a man that had just dispatched seven of his best men in creative and painful ways. Rage boiled in his chest; he'd _strangle_ the little shit for this! He lunged at the figure like a madman, arms outstretched to grab him and tear him apart.

The figure simply moved forward, right toward the leader's unprotected torso as he attacked. Five points of pain erupted in the center of the leader's chest, causing his eyes to widen and constrict in shock. The figure's palm was now pressed almost flat against the thug's chest, the tips of his fingers curled like claws and buried into the flesh between his ribs. The leader realized suddenly that they had never stood a chance; whoever the shit was, he was far stronger than he looked. The point was only driven home for him when he felt the hand twist, pulling and tearing the area its fingertips had embedded themselves in as it went. Gasping as the hand finally let go, he collapsed and curled into a whimpering ball, holding his now-bleeding chest.

Mitsune watched as the leader crumpled in a blubbering, gasping heap in the still-deepening semidarkness. The figure bent over and struck quickly, rendering the gang leader unconscious. The clouds overhead rumbled again, signaling the beginning of a downpour. Her savior stood, examining the collapsed heap of unconscious thugs quickly as the water soaked the earth around them. Looking around, she saw him retrieve something from a bush, and saw that it was the part of the pole that had broken off earlier. He pulled the piece that had broken off apart quickly, yanking off a thick length of twine near where the handle had attached to the head; what the head was, she couldn't see. The man used the thin rope to tie up the others as well.

Suddenly, he reached into one of the unconscious thug's pockets, pulling out his cell phone. Dialing a number, she heard him speak quickly and quietly with someone on the other end of the line, then hung up. At the last, she saw him tear off one of his own sleeves, using it to retrieve, gather together, and safely bind the fallen weapons of each thug and several others they had besides. A short distance away, he propped the bundle atop the broken pole, embedding the jagged tip into the ground. Tossing the phone near the base, he turned and began to approach her.

She stumbled backward, suddenly tired and afraid. She owed him her life, but that didn't mean she could necessarily _trust _him yet. "W-what do you want from me?" she stammered as he approached, feeling dizzy as the night's stress caught up with her.

"Are you okay, Mitsune?" his concerned and very familiar voice asked. Lightning flashed in the distance above him, revealing in a flash what she couldn't see before: the remains of a bloodstained shirt, sliced across the middle; the remains of a broom head in his hand; the bloody, torn holes in the left leg of his pants; and the look of concern on his bespectacled face.

"K-Keitaro!" she gasped, just before fainting entirely.

* * *

A.N.: First chapter of many more to come. Due to the way the story is developing in later chapters, this is a rewrite of the original chapter I had prepared. More to come soon; I've got something like 13+ chapters already written, but they'll be getting the same treatment I gave this one. References for those that were paying attention: Bungie's _Marathon_, Douglas Adam's _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_, Cowboy Bebop, and possibly others. Inspiration from my own head and several of the better fanfics on this site in this category. Read and Review, or just read and enjoy, 'till next time…

U.A.N.: Chapter 1 revised! In the end, a few bits got slightly rewritten, others were just polished. As an aside, if there was any part of the story so far you feel could be expanded upon, clarified, or whatever, let me know. I'd be happy to add to the action as I fix up the rest and (eventually) continue onward...


	2. Ch2: Sorry Don't Fix No Holes

Disclaimer: If I actually owned any of this, why would I publish it as fan fiction? I don't, and I don't claim to. Some other lucky smeghead does.

Updated Notes: That smeghead is Ken Akamatsu. Finally managed to track down and list his frickin' name! Gah! Anyway…

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Chapter 2: Sorry Don't Fix No Holes, but it's Nice to Hear It Anyway

Mitsune awoke the next morning to an empty stomach and a headache that throbbed in time with the distant sound of a hammer.

She grimaced; the hangover from the previous night was pretty light for a change, but that didn't make it any more fun than usual. As she opened her eyes and tried to adjust them to the light, she suddenly wondered where she was. She sat up quickly and found she was in her own room, lying in her own futon. She instantly regretted sitting up so quickly, as her headache only surged to new strength with the movement; had her stomach still been full, the nausea alone would have done her in at that point. Rubbing her temples to force down the pounding between them, she looked down at herself.

To her own surprise, she was loosely wrapped in a few large towels where she lay under her normal sheets, her clothes still on but her soaked shoes carefully removed and set aside nearby. Her clothing felt slightly damp and stiff, as though she'd been in the rain; thanks to the towels, though, they were mostly dry. She looked at the clock, which read 11:24 a.m. in glowing green digital light.

'_Huh? How did I get here, anyway?_' she thought to herself, before cringing at the resurgence of the throbbing in her head. It hurt to even think just yet, and the noise outside the window didn't help matters much, either.

A moment later, the hammering outside had stopped. Looking at her window, she saw the sun gleaming in through slightly wet panes of glass. Looking over at her desk, she noticed a tray with steaming cups of coffee and tea, a few of her favorite breakfast foods and a small bottle of aspirin laid out on her table.

'_Wow,_' she thought dazedly, slowly getting up to accept what had been so kindly left for her, '_this is unexpected…not that I'm complaining, to be sure! Still, I wonder who did all this?' _

After years of long, drunken nights on the town, Mitsune was used to assessing the damages the morning after; right now, her body was telling her two different things. The first was that she'd been in worse shape for a hangover than this before, meaning she hadn't had the opportunity to become falling-down drunk. The second, however, was that something _else _had happened, though her mind was too groggy to tell her just _what _that was yet.

The entire place was quiet now. Where was everyone? She tried to remember; if she was right, this should be Saturday. Kaolla Su and Sarah had been planning on a trip to the zoo all week, and the last she'd heard the Mol-Molian energy ball had finally convinced Motoko to take them there. That would explain where half of the usual noise level of the building had gone. Naru must have gone shopping (she'd told Mitsune about wanting to go to a new store the day before), which explained the other half. Shinobu was normally quiet as a mouse anyway, and the only time Keitaro...

All at once, a wave of memories from the previous night hit her in a jumbled mass of revelations and impossibilities.

The last thing she'd seen was his face. That concerned look he always seemed to wear had seemed so out of place; where _had _he learned to fight like that? It had begun to rain, so that explained the wet clothes and shoes. But what about being in her own room? They'd been somewhere on the pathway back home when she'd passed out; had he carried her back? For some reason, the thought made her giggle, then frown. If he had, it would have made for a hell of a thing to have to explain: carrying her, a helpless and unconscious woman, back home in torn and bloody attire with nothing to show for it except a broken broom handle!

It would have been funny, if she didn't suddenly feel so damn guilty about it.

Had it been a dream? No, it seemed all too vivid and real to her; if she'd been _that _far gone last night, she wouldn't have made it back this far on her own. If it really _had_ been real…then the _kanrinin _had just up and saved her neck big time.

She needed to think, to sort out the overload and accept the truth for what it was; if nothing else, she had to give the guy credit where credit was due, and that couldn't be done in a state of half-awake confusion!

At any rate, her stomach was now snarling and growling at her as much as her head was throbbing. Looking down at the breakfast again, she decided she'd leave the deep thinking and figuring out 'till later.

About twenty minutes later, she had consumed the food, taken the aspirin, and downed the coffee. Sipping on the tea, she recognized the flavor: a sweet herbal blend that was supposed to help with hangovers. Keitaro had given it to her once, after she'd gone particularly heavy on the _sake _a few months ago; he'd said something about how hangovers were mostly caused by dehydration, a fact she'd found somewhat amusing at the time. Drink _sake_, and become dehydrated; drink mild tea, and become rehydrated. It made sense, in a weird way, but it still seemed odd. Had he left it here for her, then?

As she pondered this, she heard the hammering start again, but only briefly. For some reason, the sound was oddly erratic and uneven to her ears; now that she could focus on it without her head mimicking the beat inside her skull _too _badly, it sounded almost _too _slow for any regular rhythm. Moving toward the window, she shielded her eyes (which were still as sensitive as her ears at the moment) and looked in the direction that the sound had been coming from.

At a distance, she spotted an unusually disheveled and haggard-looking Keitaro walking slowly and erratically away from a fresh patch in the fence around the hot springs. The inn's resident manager looked either barely awake or drunk, she couldn't really tell; either way, he wasn't holding up that well by all accounts. He was wearing a different set of clothes than she had remembered him wearing last night (they were lighter in color and weren't destroyed), which meant he must have changed for the day already. Though he didn't see her, he seemed to be moving with a single-minded focus, like he was keeping himself moving forward through sheer stubborn force of will alone.

She heard the front door of the inn opening and closing, followed by slow, heavy footsteps leading up the stairs. Holding her breath, she waited until the footsteps had passed by her door before moving across her room toward it. Carefully and quietly opening her door enough to peek out of, she saw him just as he entered his own room. Before she could follow, she heard a muffled thump, then complete silence.

Curious and increasingly concerned, she decided to check on him. After what she'd seen him go through and do the previous night, she was surprised he had been standing at all. Looking around to make sure no one was around, she quickly moved into his room and shut the door behind her.

There he lay, shoes barely off before he'd crumpled on his own futon. He breathed slowly and evenly, and was dead fast asleep. He looked worse up close than he had at a distance, with dark circles under his eyes and a pale, drawn look to his skin, yet the peaceful expression on his sleeping face seemed to suggest otherwise, as though he and his tired body were on two different planes of existence.

She knelt by him, examining him in his sleep. He wore a loose fitting shirt, and was barefoot at the moment; gingerly poking him to make sure he was out (which he was), she decided to examine what she could of his injuries. That, it seemed, was more important to her than the rest; she could ask him about how he'd saved her life, but after all she'd seen the previous night she knew better than to expect him to come out and willingly admit to having been hurt.

Sure enough, his right ankle was bruised slightly all around, though it seemed otherwise fine. She couldn't check his other leg through his pants without removing them, and even _she _knew there'd be no getting away with that so easily. Instead, she gently shifted the material of his loose collar and checked his shoulder. More bruises ringed the joint itself, but she didn't see any swelling there, either.

It wasn't until she shifted the material further that she saw something that really got her attention.

There it was, plain as day; the tail end of a fresh, straight scar, starting below his right shoulder and proceeding at an angle across his chest. It was healing fast, faster than she would ever have believed possible, but it clearly hadn't been there very long. Though she couldn't see much else without removing his shirt entirely, she discovered two more important things about his chest she hadn't known before: it had much more well-defined musculature than she had imagined it would, and even the small area she could look at was riddled with scars.

She almost jumped back in shock when she recognized them for what they were. The fresh slice was but one of many like it, some quite old and faded, others more recent. Even on the small portion she could see, there were more scars than she knew one person could have: straight cuts, jagged puncture marks and oddly-shaped burns dotted his skin irregularly, sometimes overlapping one another. His shoulder, too, had more than bruises, as she could see at least three separate places where it had been cut or stabbed in the past.

She turned away, on the verge of tears. She'd been somewhat prepared for the presence of the one, long scar, or at least a wound on its way to becoming one; the very fact that he had so many more like it was almost too much for her to handle. She had wanted to thank him, to ask him so many questions about what had happened; now, as she looked at his prostrate form, she realized he needed his sleep more than anything else.

'_Rest easy, Kei,_' she thought to herself, '_I think you need it._' On a sudden impulse, she bent over and gave him a light peck on the cheek, careful not to wake him. '_We'll talk about it later. I promise._'

Returning to her own room quietly, she finished off the last her tea in silent thought. She needed to think, and think hard. First and foremost on her brain was the puzzle of the previous night. That Keitaro had been injured, had healed himself, had saved her life, she already knew. Whether for curiosity's sake or for something else entirely, Kitsune the Fox…no, Mitsune Konno, the woman, wanted to figure out how and why.

At the very least, she wanted to know why he'd ended up looking half-dead afterwards.

As she left her room once again, she considered what she already knew from what she'd seen. He'd had a broom when she'd found him, along with a large slice out of his chest, a a swollen and bleeding jaw, and quite a few other injuries from his fall; he hadn't traveled far in his flight, but had landed pretty hard; and the last thing she'd seen him doing was repairing a fresh hole in the fence around the hot springs.

This was good for a start. She still needed more to go on than that, and that meant looking for it.

Her first real clue was the charred end of a rolled-up sock near the stairwell. As she examined the stray bit of singed clothing, she noticed still-wet paint on the upper part of the stair's railing. '_Now we're getting somewhere!_' she thought to herself. Burnt objects of any sort on or near the second floor most often were the work of Kaolla Su, whose inventions frequently involved ballistic missiles and exploding machinery. Broken and freshly fixed bits of architecture almost anywhere in the building generally meant Keitaro had recently been blown through them.

Mentally trying to judge the angles, she made her way down the stairs to the bottom, where she found what was left of a pillowcase in a nearby corner. '_Yep, definitely something Su would cook up: long-range linen cannons._' Looking around, she noticed something even more telling: a freshly-repaired door to the hot springs. Peeking though the door, she noticed tiny fragments of wood and glasson the ground on the other side, indicating which way the door had been destroyed.

Now she had what she needed: a traceable path that would have taken Keitaro outside from the top of the stairs. If one of Su's inventions had hit him at the top while he was, say, sweeping the floor with a broom, he could easily have been blown through the railing to the bottom of the stairs. Knowing his luck like she did, she was willing to bet fifty to on that Naru had been standing near the bottom of it at the time. If she'd hit him through the door to the hot springs…

She winced to herself. Motoko was at her most unforgiving when she was bathing, and was _never_ without her sword when she could help it.

'_Well…that explains what sent him out there like that,_' she thought almost ruefully as she considered the triple-team scenario, '_but that doesn't explain how he managed to pull himself together…or why he bothered to at all._'

The memory of his body lying there unconscious in a twisted and bloody heap chilled her once more. It still amazed her that he even managed to wake up at all before bleeding to death, let alone have the strength left to do…whatever that was that he did to fix himself up so quickly. Though the memory still made her nauseous, she forced herself to replay his actions in her mind, trying to pick out anything she could of the strange process. Two things stood out in particular: the way his hand had slightly glowed over each injury, and the way he'd reacted before, during, and after each part he'd healed. The last time she'd seen someone's hands glow like that had been when she'd last seen the inn's resident kendo fanatic charging up one of her infamous secret techniques.

It was a long shot, but she was willing to bet if Keitaro was as good a fighter as she'd seen the night before, then she wouldn't put knowing a secret healing trick in the same vein as Motoko's attacks past him, either. What was it she had called it? Channeling _ki_, or some such samurai talk.

But there was another thing that didn't add up, and to her mind perhaps it was the biggest thing of all. More accurately, it was a _lack _of something she would have expected.

If he really _was_ that strong, to the point that he could readily defeat eight hardened criminals _effortlessly _(four of which had been armed and had attacked him all at once, no less) right after going through the equivalent of a major car wreck's worth of hurt (and fixing it all in what looked like an even _more _painful manner than the injuries themselves), then why the hell would he just _allow _himself to be smacked around like a human pinball by three girls for something that hadn't even been his fault to begin with in the first place?

Most guys she knew would rather _die _than let themselves get pushed around like that by _anyone_, especially when they could help it. Teach a guy to fight back, and he would. Yet Keitaro wasn't most of the guys she'd known, that was for sure. What other guy would let half his residents nearly kill him, only to get up and save another one of them from guys that epitomized to the extreme what he was accused of being daily? What other guy, presented with a legitimate excuse to take advantage of the situation, would instead bring her back safely to her own room, and then go back and _fix _everything he'd broken in the process before collapsing at the end of his own limits to stay awake?

On that thought, she began to wonder how long he'd actually had to spend fixing everything. He'd have to have not only cleaned and cleared the debris, but secure and repair three major pieces of the architecture quietly enough to avoid disturbing anyone. A job like that could take days, and he'd finished it in one night.

'_Crap, it must've taken all night just to fix the door and the railing, let alone patch the fence up this morning! _'she thought. '_He probably hasn't even slept at all 'till just now; no wonder he looked so dead tired!_'

No, scratch all that. He hadn't been the direct cause of _any _of that damage; he'd stayed up all night fixing the holes that three of his _tenants_ had created at his expense, using _him _as their target, punching bag, and wrecking ball. They'd left him for dead without a second thought, and he'd come back to clean up _their _mess for them, and then only AFTER he'd taken on an entire gang of dangerous assholes just to save a girl who'd more than likely have wheedled whatever cash she could out of him as soon as give him the time of day!

He'd even carried her back in the pouring rain, at risk of re-raising the ire of the others; he'd somehow taken her to her room without raising the general alarm against himself, had even tucked her in for the night (with enough towels to keep her rain-drenched clothing from soaking her sheets, no less). At most, he'd spent a few minutes changing clothes into something that was more or less still in good enough repair to disguise his injuries; after spending _his _time to rest bringing everything back to normal again, he had apparently even gone as far as to bring _her_ some breakfast and painkillers in the morning before _he_ dropped over dead from exhaustion, even when he likely needed (and certainly deserved) the same to be done for _him_ instead!

Kitsune felt a slight blush form on her cheeks as she considered the implications. He'd carried her to her room, unconscious! He had the perfect opportunity to do whatever he wanted to her, and clearly hadn't. The most he'd taken off was her shoes, and he'd actually covered more than he'd removed afterward! Could she even believe he would have copped a feel in the process? Somehow, with the evidence to the contrary mounting higher and higher she severely doubted that he even would try. Hell, for all the teasing and torment she'd put _him _through, for every accusation of stupidity and perversion they'd made about him, he'd already proven himself to be a perfect gentleman up to that point more times than she could count, and had proven it beyond all doubt in what he'd done for her last night.

'_But then, Kei's always been like that, hasn't he?_' she thought to herself, a sense of acute regret suddenly creeping over her. As long as she'd known him, he'd _always_ willingly worked himself to exhaustion to ensure their comfort, even when they'd gone out of their way to make his life miserable. While she was amusing herself at his expense, he had bent over backwards to ensure everyone's comfort as best he could, hers included. Now she owed him her life on top of it all, and he'd only kept going from there. What had they ever done for him, besides use him? What had _she _done to deserve that much kindness from anyone, let alone from him?

What were they to him that he'd give that much of himself and yet expect and receive so little in return?

Naru had always adamantly argued that it was because he got his perverted kicks at their expense. For the first time, Mitsune felt thoroughly inclined to disagree. Of course, her still seemed to like him in a way (much though she failed to admit it even to herself), and he'd certainly always liked her; but Naru also made it abundantly clear on a daily basis she wasn't going to take those feelings past the end of her fist, and Keitaro had little hope of changing that anytime soon. Motoko, proud and honor-bound warrior that she was, loathed his very presence as a male in their home; granted, she (very rarely) acknowledged his usefulness as their _kanrinin _and (even more rarely) her willingness to occasionally tolerate his presence, but Kitsune doubted she'd ever admit _that_ to his face. Su ALWAYS enjoyed a willing playmate/guinea pig, and if Keitaro was willing to allow her to blast him ten ways to Kingdom Come with her latest crazy devices she didn't seem to care to ask how or why. Sarah thought he was a dork, but didn't seem to mind him nearly as much as some of the others did; aside from being someone to occasionally tease, whack over the head, or pick on a bit for fun, the girl scarcely noticed his existence half the time. Shinobu _definitely _had it for him bad, though; now that Mitsune thought about it, she had good reason to. Among all of them, she alone had willingly recognized the best in him and dearly respected him like an older brother, if not more. If the young cook had been a bit older, Mitsune had no doubt Shinobu would have claimed him for herself _long _ago if she could. But even she couldn't do all _that _much for him, at least not without peeing herself with embarrassment or accidentally getting him in trouble with Naru or Motoko in the process.

And as for herself? What had Kitsune contributed to his existence in return for all he'd done?

'_I've teased him, and flirted to get money out of him, and strung him around by the nose without doing a damn thing for him at al; I've played painful jokes on him, and caused him no end of trouble, haven't I?_' she thought to herself with a sharp pang of guilt. '_Oh, sure, I've never gone and physically __**hit**__ him like some of the others have, but I've set him up to be hit for my __**own**__ amusement more times than I can count! Spit, I've been as much a bitch to him as anyone here; actually, I've been worse, 'cause I'm the only one that did it strictly by __**choice!**_'

Yet even she knew in her heart that he didn't deserve the rough treatment he received any more than she deserved having her life saved by him. He treated them all like gold, and got hurt for it daily, yet he kept coming back to help them again. '_So what if he can fix himself up that fast? NO ONE should have to go through all that…that pain. And for what? So that we can continue to pummel him, and bleed him dry, and make __**ourselves **__comfortable at his expense? He should be throwing our sorry asses out on the street for all we do to him, and yet…he doesn't. He won't. He's…not like that. _'

That was the core of it, wasn't it? He was willingly suffering, making sure they didn't. He put up with their name calling and beating and roughhousing and manipulative ways, and even to the very last of his energies he _went out of his way_ to treat them all like solid gold. They called him lazy, and yet he willingly did the chores of seven people and paid all their bills, often with no help whatsoever; they called him stupid, yet he so often knew their needs and wants and desires better than they knew themselves, while they knew next to nothing about him and never bothered to ask; they called him a pervert for his clumsiness, but he endured a far more perverse level of pain than anyone deserved, and still always came back to defend and respect their lives and wishes to the very last, doing all he could just to keep a roof over their heads and keep them all safe!

_They_, the girls of Hinata-Sou, had proven themselves to be what they accused him of every single day, and yet…he hadn't rejected them as they actively sought to reject _him_.

Shinobu entered from the dining room just then, interrupting Kitsune's train of thought for a brief but somehow merciful moment. "Oh! You're awake! G-good morning, Kitsune!" the young cook greeted her housemate.

"Good morning! Er, actually, good afternoon," Kitsune replied a little distractedly with a chuckle, glancing down at her watch. Indeed, it _was _after twelve, though she'd been awake less than an hour already.

"Oh, right! Umm…you wouldn't have happened to have seen where Sempai went, did you?" the younger girl asked, a strong note of worry seeping in her voice. "It's just…well, he was…"

"Up all night making repairs?" Kitsune offered pointedly, a note of regret seeping into her voice.

"Y-yes! I think he was," Shinobu responded, somewhat surprised that the woman had noticed. After all, _she _was the only one that usually paid any attention to the poor guy! "Do you know what happened? He carried you in last night on his back, right after…after the others…"

Mitsune raised an eyebrow. "Umm…how much did you see?"

Shinobu flushed, but continued nervously. "Well…S-Sempai was cleaning the hall upstairs, like he usually does, when Su-chan hit him with some laundry. I keep telling her she needs to be more careful, but…"

Mitsune nodded. "Good luck with that one, right?"

Shinobu nodded sadly in acknowledgement. "Anyway, from what I heard and saw…I think he must have landed on Naru, and she…well, you know how Naru-sempai can be…" she said, tears welling up at the thought of her Sempai being ricocheted through the inn as he'd been.

"I guessed as much," Kitsune admitted. "I think Motoko nailed him right after that, too."

"W-was he hurt?" the girl asked fearfully. "H-he looked terrible when he came back! His clothes were a mess! He wouldn't tell me what had happened, but…he had you on his back, and you weren't even awake!"

"He…" Mitsune sighed, trying to think of how to put it, "I think he'll be okay, but…well, I think it was a pretty rough night overall. What'd he do afterward?" the Fox asked curiously.

"Well, he…put you to bed, and wrapped you in towels and took off your shoes for you, I think," the girl said quickly, blushing, "and the last I saw he had c-changed his clothes and told me he was okay and you were going to be okay, and that he'd found you on his way back. I was going to wish him goodnight…b-but then he didn't go to sleep! He was still awake when I woke up this morning. He didn't even stop for b-breakfast, but he got food for you, I think, a little while ago. He said you'd need it more than he would, and…I haven't seen him since." The girl looked down nervously at her feet, one of which was shuffling back and forth.

'_So he DID get me breakfast, on top of everything!_' Mitsune thought warmly. To Shinobu, she said, "He's…he's asleep, right now, kiddo. I think we should let him rest, he had a pretty rough night.

"Y-yeah, I hope he'll be okay soon," Shinobu responded, more than a little surprised by Kitsune's sudden kindness toward him but not at all unappreciative. "I know! I'll make him something to eat when he wakes up, if I see him when he does that is!" Shinobu relaxed, just a little, settling her mind with this final idea. Smiling and blushing even more, she excused herself and went on her way.

As the girl left, Mitsune lapsed back into thought. '_Well, I guess that about confirms the whole night, breakfast and all._' A warm feeling spread through her once more just thinking about all he'd done for her, for all of them, without hesitation. For a moment, she allowed herself a small amount of pleasure in knowing just how gentle and kind he'd been to _her_ in particular, in spite of everything she'd already put him through so far. If she was truly honest with herself, she knew, it shouldn't have really surprised her. Much as she teased him, and much though the actions of his tenants would suggest otherwise, the guy always had more manliness in his little finger than most men she had known combined, and he didn't even try to act "manly" at all. He simply acted like himself.

Plus, she thought to herself with more keen interest than before, he was cute, sweet, had an innocent caring nature, and had a smile bigger, more _kawaii_, and more heartwarming than a litter of soft, cuddly puppies when he was really and truly happy. She really liked to see him smile like he did, come to think of it. Not the tired, polite smiles he wore so often, but the _real _ones that came out when something _good _happened.

Then, bitterly, she remembered how she was going to tease him, to try and get even _more _out of him, just before she'd found him. The blatant and glaring contrast hit her like a freight train as she realized what she was going to do then, to keep on doing like the fool that she was, to someone that deserved a lot better than that. To think she'd been so blind as to treat him that badly, to fail to realize his nature sooner, was almost too much for her to handle.

She was supposed to be the _clever_ one out of them all, and she'd missed what should have been obvious from the start. Did she even deserve forgiveness? Would he even be willing to give it to her?

Or had he forgiven her already, without her even knowing it?

Collapsing on the couch, all she could think to do now was to sit, and cry, and wait.

* * *

When Keitaro awoke to his own alarm about three hours later, he was slightly less tired than he'd been when he'd passed out but felt extremely famished instead.

It had been a long time since he'd had to fight like he had the night before, though he hadn't forgotten how by any stretch. Though the battle had been brief, it had been more taxing on his system to fight so soon after healing as many injuries as he had than he'd expected it to be. It took a while for the tiredness to set in, but it did eventually.

As he made the transition from dream to consciousness, his mind reviewed the events that had brought him to this point. When the cops had arrived to take the thugs away upon his anonymous call, he'd already carried Kitsune out of sight, not wanting to be caught up in the spotlight but having to make sure the bastards were locked up for good. By the time he was sure they were all arrested properly and he'd made it back to the inn, it had been almost midnight, and both he and the unconscious Mitsune were soaking wet. The rain disguised the blood on his shirt and pants, and washed a good amount of it off as well; thankfully, everyone but Shinobu had been asleep. The poor girl had been waiting to make sure he returned safely, and though it worried her deeply to see the two of them in their current state of disarray he managed to reassure her that they were fine. She'd let him take Kitsune up to her room without incident.

Though he'd already saved her life, he didn't feel at any liberty to disturb Mitsune any more than he had to when he put her in her bed. It had taken a good deal of courage just to get her up there, a good deal more to carefully and quietly retrieve the towels and wrap her in them without touching anything inappropriately, and it had been almost impossible to get himself to take off her shoes, even though he knew he couldn't leave her feet to soak in the soggy things all night. When she was finally settled and tucked in, she hadn't woken at all, a fact he'd counted as a blessing.

If she had awoken…well, experience told him she would tease him mercilessly, or question him thoroughly, or both. He wasn't ready for that at the time, not yet anyway.

He, meanwhile, wouldn't allow himself the luxury of sleep afterwards, not while the stair railing was dangerously broken and the hot springs was stil left in the state it had been. With his broom broken, cleanup had been more difficult than usual; he still needed to sweep the last bits from the edges of the hot springs entrance when he next got the chance, but at least there wasn't anything dangerous left for anyone to accidentally step on.

Then there was the problem of safety: with a wide-open pathway into the inn via the hotsprings newly brought into existence, the inn was vulnerable to burglary and worse. If there were any others like he'd seen and fought earlier tonight, he couldn't rest while there was a way for them to walk in as they pleased. As _kanrinin_, and as their friend, he'd protect his tenants and their home no matter the personal cost.

Truth be told, another fight might drain him of what little he had left at that point, but he _certainly_ wouldn't let anyone hurt his tenants while he was alive and kicking.

He just hoped he wouldn't have to. Luckily, he didn't.

The banister had been the least troublesome, though it was difficult to do it all quietly. The door had been tougher; there was debris everywhere, both from Su's launcher and from where he'd passed through. By the time he'd fixed and rehinged the whole thing, morning had already come. He'd been almost too tired to lift the door into place again, but he'd done it.

He considered eating breakfast, or at least resting, after that, but there was still the gaping hole in the fence. He'd left it for last, knowing most of the girls would leave early and he'd need to make noise to properly patch the hole. Before he'd gone to hammer in the new boards, he'd noticed that Mitsune had yet to wake up. Knowing she'd be hungry and hung over (he'd figured out by then that she had seen him heal and fight the previous night, and had noted the smell of vomit when he'd tried to catch up with her when she'd run away), he decided to fix her breakfast before he made enough noise to wake the dead in patching the fence.

Hopefully, the gesture would help her forgive him for making noise when she was still hung over. If not…well, that was just how his luck usually ran, anyway.

He'd entered her room quietly with the tray full of food, coffee, a tea good for post-drinking headaches, and a bottle of aspirin. He'd seen her there just as he'd left her, still asleep in the morning light and looking as peaceful and full of beauty as he'd ever seen her. Though he didn't want her to wake up with him gazing at her (he was going to be in enough trouble as it was, and didn't want to add to it), he had to take a moment and observe the woman he'd rescued just hours earlier. Of course, he well knew what she was like to him: a tease and a flirt, always looking to get out of rent or get money for more _sake_, even getting him into trouble at times. But that was just who she was, and he didn't mind that. When she did finally wake, he knew, she'd probably either tease him unmercifully or blackmail a year's worth of room and board out of him to keep her from telling everyone about what had happened, but right then, he was too tired and too glad she was still alive to care about that.

It surprised him a bit that she would mean that much to him, and yet he already knew he'd have done the same had it been any of the girls in the inn, or any friend of his, or anyone in need of his help as she'd been. That, after all, was who _he _was, and he wasn't about to alter that part of him for the world. Still, he was somehow glad to have been there to help her.

Though he hadn't wanted to leave, he knew there was work to be done, and he had to do it. By the time he'd finished patching the fence, he was finally drained past his own limits. Between the long string of rough days he'd already been through, the lack of sleep, the fight, the last set of injuries, and the all-night repair work, he could barely stand on his own feet. That he made it to his own room and into his bed at all was nothing short of miraculous, and would never have happened had his will to _not_ fall asleep where someone would find him not been so completely adamant.

He still ached in a dozen different places, but at least he'd be able to make it through the rest of the day without falling over backwards. He'd rest better tonight, he promised himself. Hopefully, he'd make it through _this _day without any more major incidents.

Right now, his stomach was ready to eat _him_ if he didn't feed it something else, fast. All else would have to wait; if the growling got any louder than it already was, his tenants would think he was keeping a grizzly bear as a pet.

To his surprise, he found Shinobu apparently waiting for him in the kitchen; when he got there, she practically jumped out of her skin to get him something to eat, in spite of her surprise at seeing up "so early." Looking at his watch confusedly, he made sure it was in fact three in the afternoon as he'd thought, and not three at night. Suddenly, he realized what she meant.

"Oh! You mean…early as in…"

"I…um, I thought you just got to sleep a few hours ago!"

"Uhh, yeah, I did…had a lot to get done, I guess." He scratched his head sheepishly, mildly trying to figure out just _how _she would know that. Deciding it probably didn't make a difference, he added, "Don't worry; I got enough to last on. I guess my stomach needs food more than I need sleep." His snarling abdomen punctuated his point.

"T-that's okay, Sempai, I'm just glad you're alright," she said with relief, a half second before moving like lightning to get him some food to disguise her growing blush. Though Keitaro didn't know it, Shinobu reserved her own opinion on the matter, and believed he was getting too little rest as it was to be healthy.

Once he had finished off a rather massive quantity of her cooking, he helped her clean the mess and thanked her profusely for the food. The girl initially protested, telling him he should rest, but he insisted anyway. Once done, she simply blushed and mumbled something he couldn't hear, before scurrying from the room for parts unknown.

Scratching his head again and grabbing a can of soda from the fridge, his mind turned to his next dilemma: what the hell he was going to say to Kitsune when he next saw her?

Things like what he'd done last night, he knew, begged some explanation, and the Fox alone out of all of his tenants would never settle for less than everything she could possibly find out from him if she got curious. How much had she seen? He knew she'd seen him fight; had she seen the rest as well? He knew _someone _had been nearby when he'd landed, and had taken off at a run when he noticed they were there. Had it been someone else, or was it her? He couldn't know for sure, but considering she'd seen him do things none of them had ever seen him do already, he knew she probably wouldn't rest again until he had told her everything about it in as gory detail as he could, and then some.

Maybe, if he was _really_ lucky, he'd get her to agree _not_ to tell the others about any of it, at least not yet. At least, she might be willing to bargain with him and only get _half _a year's rent free, instead of one or two, since he _had_ saved her life.

Maybe.

One way or the other, he knew he'd have to tell her something eventually. And all things considered, he'd be best off telling her the truth up front and going from there, dangerous and disastrous as that might prove to be. _Not _telling her the truth wasn't an option, he knew, and trying not to tell her would only make matters that much worse. Lost in thought, he went into the common room and sat on the couch, absent-mindedly moving to open his soda can.

"Heya, Keitaro." Kitsune greeted him with a wink from where she sat on the other side of the couch, making him jump about a foot in the air and scramble to catch his unopened soda can again.

"AAAACK! I mean, um, hi, Kitsune, heheh," he said as he landed, trying to re-swallow his own heart back down his throat. How the _hell _did they always manage to surprise him like that?

Kitsune just giggled to herself, seeing his startled reaction. "Too much caffeine?"

Keitaro snorted slightly. "Nah, not enough sleep. Makes me jumpy. Sorry about that, anyway." He looked a little flustered, not exactly sure what to say.

She snickered. "Don't worry, I don't bite sleepy heads…not _hard_, anyway."

He nodded mildly, then did a double take at her words before going cherry red. '_SOOO easy to tease!_' Mitsune thought to herself, snickering even harder. "No, seriously, though, don't worry about it; you looked like you needed your rest anyway."

"Uh, yeah, I guess so…wait, when did you see me? I thought you were asleep at…ah! I mean, uh…" he started to stammer, his brain catching up with his mouth about half a second too late to stop him from slipping up.

Mitsune, however, didn't press that issue…at least not yet. "Oh, I was, I'm sure. I saw you from my window when you were stumbling around after fixing that fence earlier. That was awfully kind of you to leave me breakfast like that, you know," she added with a hint of a smile in her voice.

"Oh, right, yeah. Um…sorry if I woke you or anything. I wanted to wait until you were up so I wouldn't bother you. I mean, you did have a rough night and all, so…" He shifted nervously; when she didn't respond, he continued, "Umm…actually, I'm sorry I didn't check up on you before now. Are you okay? Were you hurt?"

"I'm fine, Kei, really. But there _is _something I wanted to talk to you about, you know," her voice became more serious as she spoke, "about what you did last night."

Keitaro's heart sank in his chest as his mind began bracing itself for the inevitable. "I know, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to offend you or take advantage, I just didn't want to leave you somewhere that wasn't safe, and it was raining…I know you usually like to take care of yourself, but…" His shoulders hunched slightly as his head fell.

Kitsune took full stock of his reaction. He was, she suddenly realized, waiting for the axe to come down on his head any moment, and somehow watching him squirm like that held none of the same humor it would have for her in the past. If anything, it now made her die a little inside to see him preparing for the worst like that. '_He's waiting for me to pull something on him, like I usually would,_' she mused. A part of her was dismayed to realize that, at any time before now, he'd have been right to do so. Indeed, the part of her brain that was good at schemes had already tried forming any number of ideas to get something out of the situation from him.

She'd been fighting with that side of herself into submission several hours ago, and she wasn't about to give it free reign now. Though it ran contrary to her nature, she was _not _letting the Fox within her have its way any longer.

"Listen to me, Kei," she started, making sure she got his full attention before continuing, "Everything you did last night and this morning was in no way offensive or wrong, and I _certainly_ don't think it was. I'm _not_ going to do anything to you because of it, or at all for that matter, that is meant to hurt you in any way."

Keitaro looked at her with surprise, as though an axe meant for his neck had missed him completely. "W-what?"

She looked him square in the eye. "What I mean to say is: thank you, Keitaro, for saving my sorry ass back there. I truly appreciate it, and I certainly don't deserve it from you."

The _kanrinin_ blinked, taken aback. Of all the things he'd expected to hear from her, "thank you" hadn't been one of them. Whether because he was so used to going unthanked by everyone or simply because he'd been anticipating merciless hell for having physically _carried her around _like that, the idea that she'd be openly grateful for it hadn't crossed his mind.

She looked aside suddenly. "But I want to know…why would you go through all that…pain…if you can defend yourself like that? It doesn't make any sense to me. And don't try claiming you're not hurting, Kei; I saw you there, where you fell."

Keitaro felt himself deflate entirely. She'd seen _everything_.

He looked down at his hands. Hands he'd scrubbed with, healed with, could hurt others with if he wasn't careful; hands he constantly tried to use for the good of others.

Hands he'd used just last night to break bones and twist flesh, to protect her. Hand that were now powerless to change the loss of the one secret he'd tried so hard to keep to himself, for the sake of the ones he wished to protect.

He sighed, allowing his eyes to slowly close. "Because…I'd rather be hurt, than hurt someone I care about, Mitsune."

She looked at him in shock. "But…why? Why would you let yourself _suffer_ like that? Why wouldn't you stop us from hurting you, when you could do it easily? I _saw_ what happened to you last night, Kei; those three could've _killed _you, and never thought twice about doing it! I figured out how it happened, too, and I can tell it wasn't your fault to begin with."

He looked surprised. "How?"

She shrugged. "The only explanation that made any sense to me was for Su to have blasted you down the stairs, Naru to have punched you into the hot springs, and Motoko to have sliced you back out of it again. Let me guess: you were cleaning up, as usual, and didn't even see it coming until you were already being used as a human pinball, right?"

He looked at the path he'd taken again over his shoulder. Considering it, he realized she was right. "I…guess so, but…Su was just being Su, and I _did _land on Naru kind of badly, and Motoko _was _using the hot springs at the time…I mean, I know I didn't _start _it or anything, but it's still my fault for…"

"And I guess, Kei," she noted, cutting him off, "that _you_ could have kept yourself from going through it at all, if you'd chosen to, simply by fighting back somewhere along the way."

He went to speak, then stopped. She saw his shoulders sag even further, and his face fall. "You're right…I could. But what then, Mitsune?" He looked up at her, a look in his eye she'd never seen before: the look of a haunted man. "Supposing I had 'defended myself' against one of them. You _saw _how I fight, didn't you? I could seriously hurt one of them in the process of keeping them from doing the same to me, only _they _wouldn't have the opportunity to bounce back from it afterward! Who would I have gone up against? Su? A young and eccentric girl just looking to play with someone? Or maybe Naru? A woman who already feels insecure around guys enough as it is, and has to live with one that can't walk ten steps without tripping into her? Does she really deserve to pay for that at my hands? It's bad enough that she has to deal with _that _as it is; I don't want to add injury to insult! How about Motoko? Sure, she might be a warrior, but that doesn't mean she isn't human. I could _easily _stop her blade, but what then? They all bleed, Kitsune; so do I, and so do you. The only difference is that I _can_ take plenty of injuries in stride, and be alright before I get back. _None_ of you can say the same, and I don't _want _you to have to go through all that when I can do it myself, by my own choice."

"But…why? We've done _nothing_ to deserve it, Kei. Why let us tear the spit out of you and act like it's _your _fault all the time?"

"Because I'm still the _kanrinin_ and I'm not going to walk away from my friends when they need me! It doesn't _matter_ how I feel, or if it hurts me, or if I'm right or wrong; you are still my friends! Even if I screw up all the time and pay for it twice what I 'deserve', I can't just up and quit on those I care about, and I _certainly _can't let you get hurt on my watch! If I were better at my job, I wouldn't have to go through half of it, anyway! I'm not worried about what it costs me, just whether or not it helps you!"

Mitsune was thoroughly, genuinely stunned. Not necessarily by his answer, which admittedly was just like him and she damn well knew it.

What shocked her was that he still called them, and _her_, his friends.

They'd treated him worse than shit! They'd given him next to _nothing_ but heartache and injury on a daily basis, and he gave them everything he had _anyway! _"B-but…how can you even consider US as friends, Kei?" she demanded. "We've NEVER done anything to deserve your friendship, not even once! Two of us have tried their level best to _kill _you for so much as looking in their direction, and the rest of us have either used you for target practice, slave labor, or personal plaything without consideration for how _you _feel, whether _you _have wants or needs or desires in life, or what we can do for _you_ for a change! Do you know why I was even there, last night? Do you know _why _I finally saw what our _crap _was doing to you? I was looking for you, trying to find out how you managed your whole 'immortality thing' just to _amuse _myself, at your expense! And lo and behold, I find out that all the times I'd been _amusing myself _were leaving you lying in a twisted, broken heap, left to pull yourself together again bit by agonizing bit! You've been a friend to _us_, and we've never, EVER treated you like one in return!" She began to weep, unable to look him in the eye for her shame.

Keitaro's reaction to her tears was one of confusion, regret, and unconcealed guilt and terror at having brought her (to his mind) to this state by his own actions. "I-I'm sorry, Kitsune! I didn't mean to upset you, I didn't mean to hurt you… ohnopleasedon'tcrypleasedon'tcryIdidn'twanttohurtyourfeelingsI'msososorry…" he babbled to her, his body caught somewhere between trying to calm and reassure her and kneeling with his head hung in apologetic shame for what he perceived to be his transgressions toward her.

"N-no Kei, don't apologize, it's not your fault, it never was," she said, pulling herself together enough to look at him for a moment. She couldn't stand to hear that fear and shame in his voice, not when she knew he wasn't the least bit at fault. She could see what their abuse had done to him, how _her _abuse had hurt his innocent nature so deeply.

This had to change, right now. She couldn't stand it anymore.

"Keitaro Urashima, I…I apologize to you, right now and in full, for every time I ever borrowed money off of you, got you in trouble on purpose or by accident, played tricks on you or had fun at your expense, or used you for my own benefit. I have no excuse for being like that, or for how I've treated you. You're not stupid to me, or perverted, or weak, or any of that crap I and everyone else have always tried to lay on your shoulders where it doesn't belong. I…I've never met a nicer, gentler, kinder person than you, or a better friend, and I probably never will again, either. You're the best gentleman I've ever known, and I…I don't deserve your friendship, or even your forgiveness or consideration."

"Don't say that, Mitsune Konno!" Keitaro said suddenly, a look of earnest seriousness in his eye like she'd never seen him have before as he kneeled more fully in front of her. "Of course you deserve it! You _all_ deserve it, and you most especially of all. You're smart, and thoughtful, and beautiful; you're even willing to let me explain myself if I get out of line in your eyes, whether you tease me about it later or not. Isn't that reason enough? If you've ever thought anything I had or am was worth going after, even as little as the money in my wallet, then at the very least I know I'm worth _something_ to you and you're willing to admit as much to get it, which is probably more than I can say about most people to begin with! Honestly, I can't believe I've been lucky enough to know any of you as well as I have, and you most of all. There's nothing to forgive, Kitsu-chan, and if there was I'd forgive you anyway. I always have, and I always will. I will put up with whatever I have to, and more if I have to, if it means I can be part of your lives; I can only hope you can forgive _me_ when I fall short along the way."

She met his gaze with awe. She'd never really considered _herself_ to be much more than a lazy drunk fox willing to get what she wanted out of everyone else without a care in the world, had even been proud of it in the past. Now, when she realized her carelessness had caused others to suffer tremendously as a result, when she felt the most vulnerable about herself and who she was and how she had been, Keitaro had not only instantly forgiven her, but had even gone so far as to defend her to _herself!_ He'd given her the most glowing description of her own nature she'd ever heard and told her it was what he'd really thought of her; what he'd told her had just made her melt inside.

It occurred to a part of her consciousness that, somewhere in the past minute, their faces had come to within about a foot of each other. Her gaze went across his form, unconsciously taking in the subtle details. Though his face was a study of human emotions in competition with each other, his eyes were another story. Framed by his glasses, rimmed with black circles from lack of sleep and stress, they still radiated a warmth and softness matched only by their depth. They were eyes that had already seen too much for a lifetime, yet still shone brightly from their cores.

Through those eyes, she saw him as he truly was, and for the first time she found herself acknowledging with a full, sober, conscious mind that she really liked what she saw in him.

Just then, her body acted of its own volition. She didn't realize what it was doing, until her lips were pressed against his. It startled her, and him even more so, to be suddenly engaging in a kiss, yet the will to pinpoint the reason why and how she had suddenly taken the action she had was lost and completely overridden by a wave of sensation, emotion, and yearning that said action was now generating in both parties. Conscious thoughts failed to take form just now, and her mind blanked and her body responded on instinct.

A minute later, when the two finally broke contact with their faces flushed and their breathing rapid and erratic, she could tell the sensation had been mutually felt. "…wow!" was the first thing that came from both their lips. She smiled at his brain-on-hold expression in her own pleasantly dazed state, as her mind struggled to reconnect itself with reality again. When it finally did, several thoughts flashed through it on each other's heels: '_Why did I just kiss him, all of a sudden? That wasn't like me,_' followed by '_Holy crap, I just kissed him, and it was fantastic!_' and finished with '_I'm doing that again; whatever the reason was, it's good enough for me!_'

Keitaro's mind, meanwhile, had less success at coming up with anything as complex as coherent thought, so the end result went something like this: '_Wha…huh…why…did she just…holy smegging…wow...am I dead?' _Still, like Mitsune, his body took this opportunity to act on its own volition, free as it was from his normal level of mental self-control; when she went to kiss him again, he met her halfway.

Both Keitaro and Mitsune, however, snapped back to reality when they heard the distant screeching arrival of the local bus outside about a minute later. Fear and sudden comprehension brought both minds back into the present, as they realized that in less than thirty seconds their sudden moment of blissful expression would be seen by all four of the returning Hina-Sou residents, two of which likely would not hesitate to put the _kanrinin _in orbit if they saw him anywhere in the same room alone with her, let alone kissing her!

In that moment, a real change occurred. In a situation like this in the past (with the exception of having just kissed him so deeply), Kitsune would most likely have kept him from escaping, thus essentially guaranteeing he'd be punished. Now, she feared for his personal safety, and found herself encouraging his escape, much to his surprise and relief. She hurriedly told him to meet with her again later at the first place and time she could think of: a nearby diner, at around lunchtime the next day. He agreed immediately, and had precisely ten seconds to make tracks toward one end of the house while she made for the other.

By the time Naru, arms full of packages, and Motoko, following beside her, were all but knocked down through the doorway by the overly energetic Su and Sarah (who, at the moment, were pretending to be various combinations of zoo animals), neither the _kanrinin _nor the Fox was in sight.

Sighing in relief back in his room, Keitaro thanked his lucky stars that he'd been ahead in doing all the chores for that week. Adrenaline receding from his system, he tried to sort out all that had happened, but he couldn't stop thinking about Mitsune kissing him. _She_ kissed him—_him !_—and had done so willingly. Twice! Passionately, even! Better, he hadn't ended up halfway across town afterward, had somehow kept himself from getting the nosebleed of the century, and had even been _allowed_ to escape when she clearly had the chance to get him a shiny one-way ticket to the next island courtesy Narutoko Airways! She was even sober at the time!

He did, however, note one thing: an odd weight in his hands. Confused, he looked down to see that in all the talking and excitement, he'd never even opened his soda! He sighed to himself, allowing the smallest of chuckles at the very strange day he'd been having before cracking it open.

* * *

A.N.: Well, that was a heck of a rewrite I just did. I kept most of the end intact as it was, but the first two thirdsish I had to adjust a few details to be more to what I have in mind. Side references include Red Dwarf for the useful throw-in curse word "smeg" (other uses: smeghead, smegger, smegging, smegged up, smeg off, smeg in hell, and others), although I think that's it. To those reviewers I have heard from: thank you for noting the spelling error on "Maehara", I'll have to fix it later. Also, be patient, I like to take my time and try to get things written as well as I can first, and since I've written the later chapters there have been a number of small details I need to change or fix to make things flow the way I want them to. Nothing major, just a few well-placed hits. Aside from that, all I can guarantee you is that I like the idea of a Keitaro that can kick major ass under the right circumstances, and the reasons he would be able to do so but also why he'd choose _not _to, i.e. where he draws his limits so to speak. Next chapter: further developments, twists, and explanations of certain things. That, and fast moving objects that crash, burn, and explode. (What can I say? This is Love Hina. Romance is hazardous to your health in this universe!)

A.A.N.: Revised, at last! Quite a few things I adjusted this time around, mostly in the way certain things were said and done. The hardest part was getting the early part of Keitaro's conversation with Kitsune to flow the way I wanted it to; I didn't quite like the way I'd had it before. Hope you all like it anyway!


	3. Ch3: If Destiny Is Predetermined

Disclaimer: No, I don't. End of story, period, amen. Don't ask me who did, I can't remember his name to save my life at the moment, period, amen.

* * *

Chapter 3: If Destiny is Pre-determined, then Smeg Only Knows What It Is

Dinners at the Hinata were always either very calm or oddly awkward affairs. When everyone was gathered around to enjoy steaming hot samples of Shinobu's culinary creations, all conflicts seemed to go on hold, all other engagements were postponed, and "incidents" were usually nonexistent, at least for a time. Depending on the day, it could be an easy truce or an unsteady one, but so long as there was food on the table the truce stood firm.

That night, over steamed buns and rice, fresh beef stew and plenty of extra helpings to go around, all else could be temporarily delayed or forgotten. More accurately, it could be selectively ignored for a time.

Considering the hypersensitivity of several of the girls to anything concerning the _kanrinin's _behavior toward one of their own (or vice versa), it was a miraculous reprieve.

Between the conversations about Naru's shopping trip (which interested everyone but the lone male at the table) and Sarah's account of the trip to the zoo (Motoko was always less forthcoming, and Su's attention was wholly and undividedly paid to the rapidly disappearing food put in front of her), there was enough to keep their eyes off the awkward, furtive glances Keitaro and Kitsune kept giving one another for the entire meal.

The good karma of the filling meal gave Keitaro just enough leeway to escape afterwards as well; when he left the building for the nearest general store (claiming he'd "lost" his broom the previous night, and leaving unsaid exactly how he'd done so), there hadn't been so much as a snide remark from the peanut gallery thrown his way. The rest of the night, it would turn out, would be injury-free for the weary _kanrinin_. A good thing, too; he'd need more than a few hours rest to properly deal with more hard knocks.

Unfortunately for him, the price of his temporary reprieve was yet to be paid for the night.

Oddly enough, it would be paid for in a contest over a remote control. Specifically, the television remote for the commons room and the ensuing battle for its control.

It started as a minor engagement between Motoko and Kaolla Su. The swordmaiden was watching the news; her young friend, however, had an eye on watching an anime. Mitsune, on her way back to her own room to ponder, plan, and peruse a fresh bottle of _sake_, paid little attention to the proceedings at first; however, the snippets of news that came one every time Motoko regained control of the remote suddenly caught her attention, and she stayed a moment to listen.

**Zhzhzhzhzht!**

"_—kyo_ _evening news. And now, for a recap of our main headli—_"

**Zhzhzhzhzht!**

"_—was just…that he was all alone…no one to share the game wi—_"

**Zhzhzhzhzht!**

"—_nd authorities are still puzzling over a case of vigilante jusice that took place late last evening nearby the H—_"

**Zhzhzhzhzht!**

"—_one big steaming puddle of goop. Yet there is something special that makes it a stew. And do you know wha—_"

**Zhzhzhzhzht!**

"—_ight members of a notorious gang responsible for a laudry list of serious crimes and felonies, including grand theft, rape, and murd—_"

**Zhzhzhzhzht!**

"—_uddy, take a hike, were closed…huh?*WHOOSH__** SMACK!**__* Uuugh…_"

**Zhzhzhzhzht!**

"—_pparently was the work of a lone individual who, according to reports from police questioning the felons brought into custody, came to the rescue of a young wo—_"

**Zhzhzhzhzht!**

"_—and __**you**__ take too long to take a shit!—_"

**Zhzhzhzhzht!**

"—_no clues as to who the woman was, nor as to who the man that came to her aid; however, police wish to send their congrat—_"

**Zhzhzhzhzht!**

"_--__**are **__you!?...*whoooh…whiishcachink!* Just a humble bounty hunter, m—_"

"_—iant tortoise, a noble creature with extraordinary longevity, can live for many decades…_"

At this point, Tama-chan had flown between them and somehow gained control of the remote. The stares of the _Shinmei-ryu _warrior (angry and detestful) and the Mol-Molian princess (annoyed and hungry) at the swooping form of the reptile lasted all of three seconds, and Mitsune realized instantly (as did Naru and Shinobu, though not Sarah) that now was an excellent time to be leaving the vicinity before all hell broke loose. As the living room became an instant warzone, with three people and one flying turtle battling for possession of the remote control, Mitsune moved quickly back to her room, still thinking about the fragments of the news report she'd seen and thanking whatever twist of fate had cut out the more specific details from being generally heard. '

By the time Keitaro had returned about an hour later, the only one left in the common room was an exhaused but triumphant Kaolla Su watching her anime, and the only two objects _not _either destroyed, upside down, torn to shreds or otherwise out of place were the television set and the remote control. He sighed to himself almost dejectedly, pulling the new broom out of its packaging and setting it immediately to work for what was going to be a long night.

At least the anime itself had been pretty decent to watch, he later thought.

**********

Sunday began relatively calmly, at least for the Hina-Sou.

So might the weather in the month of March, for all it would soon turn out to be.

Mitsune arrived at the diner she'd told Keitaro to meet her in a little early, and went alone; if they had gone together at the same time, she figured, someone would notice for sure and give him hell about it. She'd picked this particular spot quickly though carefully for several good reasons. She'd been here before, and liked both the food and the prices at the time; the somewhat out-of-the-way eatery was not unfamiliar to the _kanrinin_, either.

She had been seated in one of the corner tables less than five minutes when she heard what sounded like a low flying jet fly overhead. At first she didn't think anything of its oddly off-pitch sound, at least not until Keitaro walked in ten minutes later covered in grass stains and bits of dirt with the slightest of limps as he moved to sit down across from her.

He seemed to be relatively okay, though, and reassured her of as much when she realized he'd arrived much earlier than she'd expected coming from the wrong direction entirely! Still, she noticed he sat rather gingerly and carefully at the table she'd picked for the two of them.

"You sure you're okay, Kei?" she asked him again, not convinced.

"I'm fine, really. I landed in some fresh sod. I try to aim for it when I can, though I don't always get that lucky. Anyway," he noted, brushing a blade of grass from his hair, "it was only the one hit; last time it was three, and I wasn't expecting to get caught on a branch with my broom."

Inwardly, she cringed to herself; the way he casually talked about his injuries the way someone else might talk about rush hour traffic went a long way to show her just how _used _to such abuse he'd become. Chuckling mildly, she heard him say, "I don't think I broke anything major, this time, anyway."

"Anything _major?_" she asked him with a raised eyebrow. She did NOT like the sound of that at all.

"Well…nothing got sliced open or yanked out or busted in half along the way… nothing that…well…shows, at any rate." He shrugged, a little nervously. "Just minor stuff; you know, some scratches and bruises, maybe a crack in a rib or two. They'll be okay by tonight, and definitely by tomorrow morning if I get some sleep."

She paled, looking at him. A broken rib was serious business to her; to him, it was as commonplace as a papercut in a post office! "Doesn't sound very _minor_ to me, Kei!"

He shrugged. "Believe me, you get used to it after a while."

A thought occurred to her. "That reminds me: how DO you do that, anyway?"

"Do what?"

"Heal yourself like that," she stated matter-of-factly. "What do you do, exactly?"

Keitaro thought about it a moment, quietly, as though debating what he should say. "I can tell you how, sort of, but…it's not exactly the sort of thing that's very easy to just describe."

She nodded her agreement. "I guessed as much, seeing as how it isn't something you see people doing everyday!"

He smiled, looking away absently. "No…I guess it isn't." Taking a deep breath, he decided on a way of approaching the subject that might make sense. "You've seen Motoko use her secret techniques before, right?"

"Yeah, I've seen them," she replied thoughtfully, thinking of the regular, near-supernatural displays of power the swordmaiden executed on Keitaro in particular. "They don't look very safe for fixing things up, though, if you ask me."

"They aren't, not like that anyway. Her techniques are a manifestation of her _ki_, channeled and focused for a specific purpose. Namely, blasting me into the stratosphere and back." He chuckled slightly before continuing. "Anyway, you've seen how strong they can be, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, that same power can be used in other ways as well. You see, _ki _is only an extention of your center, or _hara_, which generates the energy and with training can control its end effects. Everyone alive can and actively does generate their own _ki_, whether they know how to focus and use it or not. In fact, we're both doing it right now, whether we realize it or not."

Kitsune looked at him skeptically. "You're telling me I'm making the same sort of vibes as Ms. Kendo Samurai Extraordinaire and I don't know I'm doing it?"

"Yep, basically, but…you don't know how to feel it, or control it. However, there's a simple way to show you how." He got up and moved next to her for a moment, holding out his arm to the side, parallel to the ground. "Try bending my arm. I'm going to do it two ways; the first is to resist you bending it physically, and the second will use _ki_."

She looked at him incredulously, but agreed. "Okay, Kei, I'll give it a try. But don't go sending me through the windows or anything!" she teased.

"I wouldn't think of it, Kitsu-chan; I don't want to hurt you," he replied honestly.

She blinked, a little taken aback by the certainty of his response. Recovering quicky, she reached for his extended arm, grabbing the wrist in one hand and the elbow in the other. It bent more easily than she thought, though she could see his muscles straining to resist her.

"Good! Now, that was just physical resistance, and as you can see it didn't help keep my arm straight. Now, this time, I won't resist you directly; instead, I'm going to do a simple _ki_ extention through my arm." He extended his arm again, almost loosely, and looked somewhere off in the direction it was pointing. "Now try it."

So she tried. She pulled, pushed, stained, practically hung off his elbow, but his arm didn't budge, didn't bend, and barely moved at all. The thing was, he didn't even _look_ like he was trying to resist her, and his grin only widened as she tried everything she could think of to no avail. She finally gave up, out of breath and confused. She noticed he hadn't even broken a sweat!

"Alright, I give…how…how'd you do that?" she asked.

Keitaro chuckled heartily. "Quite easily! You can do it, too. Take a moment, though, and catch your breath." He waited, and a few seconds later she was ready. "Alright, now. Extend your arm, like I did."

She complied, sticking out her right arm. "Just to show you what the difference is, we'll do it the same as before. I'll try to bend your arm, and you'll try to resist first." Her arm automatically tensed up, muscles ready to resist anything set against them with all the strength she could muster. Keitaro reached over and bent her arm. Her muscles strained, but to no avail; with two fingers at the elbow and two at her wrist, he bent it like a wire coat hanger. "What the…?" She looked at her arm, dumbfounded. Either he was a lot stronger than she thought, or she'd missed something here.

"Alright, now…now you can see, that it isn't a matter of strength or anything," he said, letting go. "Now, we'll do it again. This time, I want you to just look to where your fingers are pointing, and pick a spot somewhere on the wall. Relax your arm, though; don't focus on keeping it straight."

She looked over at him incredulously, then down the length of her arm, and noticed a dark spot in the pattern where she was pointing. "Alright, I'm looking, now what?"

"Now, instead of resisting me, I want you to reach straight toward that spot, and beyond it. Focus on reaching toward it, like your fingers can go through it from where you're standing. Literally act like you're trying to reach something beyond it, and keep doing that. Just that. Don't even bother with trying to resist, just _keep reaching_."

She reached as he spoke, focusing not on her arm but on what he told her to do. It felt weird, like she was wasn't even holding her arm _up_ or _straight _so much as _out_. She saw Keitaro grab her arm, but kept reaching. She felt him strain against it every which way with strength she didn't know he had, saw muscles bulging under his sleeves, yet realized as he did that her arm didn't move, or bend, or even feel strained at all! It was like she wasn't even trying, as though someone had put a solid steel bar that weighed nothing through her arm that refused to let it budge an inch.

Relaxing, Keitaro told her, "_That_, Kitsune, is an extention of _ki_. And you just learned how to use it."

She blinked, as though coming out of a trance. She looked at him with surprise. "But…how did I do that?" she asked, arm still reaching as before.

"When you tried to keep your arm straight physically, you tried to keep it in one place, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Think about it: if two people push with the same amount of force in opposite directions against each other, neither moves. If someone else then pushes the pair in either direction, or another entirely, they both move that way, because they cancel each other out. Holding your arm straight is kind of the same thing: the muscles on either side of your arm pull against each other to keep it straight, and to hold it straight they must do so evenly."

She glanced at him, realization beginning to dawn. "You mean…when you push on my elbow, my muscles are too busy playing tug-of-war with each other to stop you?"

"Exactly! But, if instead of keeping it straight you try to reach outward that way," he said, pointing at the side wall, "then the situation is just the opposite: all the force I exert on your elbow is in the wrong direction, even though nothing else has changed. Your _ki_ is what lets you reach out with that force, and is what keeps your arm straight. I can't bend your arm unless I push against _it _instead, and push toward the elbow in the other direction." He demonstrated this, and to her surprise her elbow bent as he pushed against her wrist, though with more difficulty than she might have thought.

Kitsune contemplated the idea a short time, and decided it sort of made sense. "So…it's not so much that my arm's not bending, but that the _ki_ keeping it straight isn't being pushed against?"

"Exactly. So long as you keep the _direction_ fixed, then all the force I apply does nothing. Anyway," he said, sitting down again, "that's just one small aspect of it. There's a lot more to it, but that'll give you an idea."

She thought about it for a moment more. "So…what does all of that have to do with destructive sword blasts and healing?"

He paused again, thinking. "I guess that really comes down to who you are, what you learn, and how you use your _ki_. You see, recognizing it and controlling it are just the first steps, like understanding how a lever works by looking at a see-saw. But the same lever can be used to crack a nut open, or pry metal, or lift a lot of weight with a little strength. Everyone here is generating their own _ki _to some extent; just how much, and how they use it, has as much to do with their state of mind and level of training as it does anything else. Motoko is a warrior, well-trained and very aggressive in many ways. She has learned to channel tremendous amounts of her _ki _into a narrow, focused path, especially in and through her sword. As such, it manifests destructively, as you and I have both seen."

"Whereas you do it differently, I take it?" she asked astutely.

"Very much so. I channel it inwardly, and focus it in a constructive way. On a wound, it means the same energy goes to accelerating the process of healing and regrowth, accomplishing in moments what would normally take days or more for my body to do on its own. It hurts like all holy hell, though; frankly, it's like compressing almost all of the pain down into the same, short span of time as well. The less time it takes to fully heal the injury, the worse it hurts. But it also fixes me up a lot faster and better than I'd normally heal, can keep me from sustaining excessive blood loss, and when I focus enough beforehand, it can also help me cushion and prevent a lot _more_ injury from a fall, for instance, than I normally would experience."

She looked at him in surprise. "You mean…you survive all that crap manually?"

"Pretty much. Part of it is in keeping myself from getting too badly hurt, and part of it is fixing what I can't prevent," he finished quietly, "like I did last night."

Shuddering, she asked. "What would happen if you didn't?"

He snorted slightly, looking away. "If I didn't, I'd be dead by now."

"Couldn't you…" she stopped, struggling for the right words. "If you can do that, why not…stop it before you get sent halfway across town? At the very least, show that you can."

He smiled sadly. "For one, I might hurt the person attacking me, and you already know I don't want to do that. For two…" he sighed, looking at his hands. "if I tried putting someone through a wall like they put me through them, it would be a lot messier than when they do it to me."

While she thought about his words, they ordered their lunches from a waitress busy making rounds to a growing number of tables. When she had left, Mitsune looked at him again. "How could it be any messier than it is when you get put through it? Why not have one of them go through it, for a change?"

He sighed. "For starters, I have a very high level of _ki_ to begin with, at least when I'm actively using it; though it's not as naturally aggressive a form as Motoko's is, I'm quite capable of doing what she does and a lot more besides, I assure you. Besides, her personality fits her strengths, particularly her level of attack power. I…don't like to get angry very much. I'm really good at healing, though, mainly because it's in my nature to care, to fix, and to help. Yes, I _could _use a great deal of power and destroy things with it. I could probably put someone through the entire _building, _corner to corner, from the outside. But there's no use in that! When you break something, you can't really use it until it's either fixed or replaced. Trust me, setting something _right_ can be a hell of a lot harder than setting it _wrong_, but as far as I'm concerned, the end result is worth the effort. Imagine, for instance, what would happen if Naru or Motoko were to do what they do to a regular guy. They'd either cripple him, or hospitalize him, or kill him, just for doing what comes naturally to them. They'd end up in trouble with the law, in jail, or even dead! And then there'd be not one person that would be hurt by their actions, but several. I care about you, _all_ of you, too much to let that happen. I can use my own abilities to survive it, painful though it is, and prevent them from killing someone in the process. I know it sounds foolish, but…there aren't all that many '_me'_s out there that can do that, and there are fewer still that would be willing to. Sure, they might learn not to do what they do to me if I stopped them or let them face the consequences themselves, but what good does that do for someone in prison for the rest of their lives? What good does it do to the person that gets killed in the process? None at all, right?" He paused, collecting his thoughts. "It's my job to keep my tenants safe, housed, and taken care of; believe me, I'm reminded ten times a day at least. I don't plan on failing that job, even if I do it badly."

Kitsune really had to think about his words. She could see where he was coming from; none of the girls at Hina-Sou were exactly well-suited for the kind of self-control that would keep them out of trouble in the regular world. Hell, Naru alone would probably take someone's head off one day if she didn't have Keitaro to aim at all the time. Now that she really thought of it, the number of times their _kanrinin_ had kept them from destroying themselves or others by taking the brunt of their wrath alone was staggering, and the rate at which he had to repair things on his own was equally over-the-top. Anyone else, she knew, would have had them thrown out, arrested, or sued at least a hundred times over for what they put him through in one week. By putting himself in harm's way, intentionally or unintentionally (as it often was the latter), he'd kept the world out of their lives and let them deal with their problems their own ways, in such a way that they wouldn't wreck their own existences permanently in the process. Still…

She looked at him again, remembering his scars, the injuries, the stains and pains he bore even now, and wondered how long he'd be able to withstand it all. In spite of his willingness to bear that kind of burden, she was worried about him. That alone said a lot, since Kitsune wasn't the type to worry about anyone other than herself if she could help it. Whether or not he could physically fill his role didn't matter to her now, not so much.

What worried her was that Keitaro Urashima, though resilient and determined, was still only a human being. He, just like anyone else, had limits.

"Kei…I get that, now. I wish I'd understood it better, and sooner; I might've been able to at least go a bit easier on you."

He shook his head. "It's not your fault, Kitsune; it never was. I just…never wanted to burden anyone with all that, not if I could bear it myself."

"But…what happens if _you_ can't bear it? Then what's gonna happen?" she asked.

He looked at her, curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Well…what happens if they _don't _grow up and cool out? You're strong, Kei, I can see that now, but you're made of flesh and blood. You might live until they get it, but they might _not_ get it, too, and you might not last long enough for that to happen, either. I know _I _didn't get it until just the other night, and that was accidentally and only because I was _willing_ to let myself understand what the hell was going on! Think about it: by the time _they_ were willing, you could be dead! What I'm saying is…you can look out for us, but who's going to look out for _you_?"

Keitaro stared at her in confusion. "For…me? Why would anyone want to? I'm just a _ronin _that happens to own and manage a girl's dorm, and I'm not really good at it, either. What's there to look out for?"

"How about an outstanding young gentleman with a heart of gold and enough nuts to keep crawling in a den of merciless tigresses for their sake, not to mention a hell of a fighter with abilities I can't even begin to imagine! What, you think that's not worthwhile, but someone that flirts, finagles, and drinks like a fish _is!? _You saved my _life_, Kei-kun!"

"But…"

"No buts! I know you don't see yourself that way, but I do. And _I _don't want to lose you while you're breaking your back and wearing yourself out 'till you drop dead of exhaustion! I never really got that 'till yesterday, Kei-kun. And I sure as heck don't want you to go back into that mess on your own again. I don't think I can stop you from going, but I think I can help you when you do. I'd rather be a Fox that watches your back than one that walks you to an early grave."

He blinked, a little surprised as the implication of her words started to sink in. "Y-you mean…!"

She leaned in closer to him, an almost suggestive smirk on her face. "I'll tell ya what:_ this_ Fox will follow you in there and make damn sure you come back out alive, 'cause if there's _any _chance of kissing and holding you again it would be worth it a hundred times over to her." She looked at him pointedly as what had to be the mother of all blushes made itself known on his now slack-jawed expression. "That is, of course, if you wouldn't mind it too much," she added with a smile.

For a moment, he blinked and stared, like he couldn't believe his own ears. "N-not at all, actually," he finally managed to admit to her, a smile bigger than any she had yet seen growing on his face. "In fact, I…I'd like that very much!"

The delight on her face became unmistakable; that was all she needed to know. Closing the remaining gap between them, she let all other considerations and worries be and began sealing the deal with him directly.

When the waitress had returned with their food a few minutes later, they barely noticed her arrival until she'd coughed loudly to get their attention. "Will…uh…that be all for you two for now?" she asked, suppressing a girlish giggle at their startled and flushed expressions. "Or…will you be having dessert later?"

**********

The meal (and the admittedly unnecessary but time-buying dessert that followed) was a much closer and more personal affair than the time waiting for it had been for the both of them, and ended up being shared and interrupted repeatedly. Well over an hour after they'd arrived, they finally paid for the food and left, walking down the street in the direction of the Hina-Sou slowly. They hadn't spoken much, and hadn't needed to; in fact, their lips had been otherwise occupied with each other for quite some time already. As they came toward a street corner arm-in-arm, Keitaro posed the question he'd been meaning to ask since they'd agreed to be closer an hour before.

"I'm not sure if this will sound redundant or not, but…do you think this makes us…a couple, now?"

Kitsune tittered to herself; oddly enough, the question hadn't yet crossed her mind as such! "You know what…I guess it does, doesn't it?" She smiled, squeezing him to herself a little tighter. "Well, I suppose I wouldn't mind having a nice, kind, handsome guy like yourself to call my _boy_friend."

Keitaro blushed a bit again, though only mildly this time. Perhaps after an hour of making out with a girl like Mitsune in between eating a good meal, he was slowly starting to get a little more used to the idea himself. "Neither would I! And I'd love to call a sweet, smart, beautiful lady like you my _girl_friend, myself." His smile fell, slightly, as a different thought crossed his mind. "But…how do we tell _**them**_that?" he asked in a low voice, nodding pointedly in the direction of the distant but slowly growing shape of their destination. She looked at him questioningly, before he added, "I mean, they might let you get away with having a boyfriend and all, but as for me…"

"…they'll look at you holding me, jump to the wrong conclusions, and send you halfway to the next island," she finished with a groan. '_Dammit, and I was so comfortable like this!_' she thought to herself. She stopped walking briefly, trying to think. She HAD promised to help him survive, and as much as she wanted to announce their new relationship to pretty much everyone that was willing to listen to her (complete with full demonstrations, if necessary—she was far from shy about showing her affections, after all), if ANY of them saw him even holding _hands _with her, he wouldn't survive long enough for her to explain it to them, much less get them to believe or accept that they were even together! And while they could probably go out like they had just done again, they wouldn't be able to leave at the same time together, nor return safely at the same time, either.

"I guess," she said, after a moment, "we'll have to figure out what to tell them later. I think either you or I should return first, and the other should go around and come back in the other direction, at least for now. Then, we'll meet later, either in my room or yours, and figure out what to do from there."

Keitaro thought this over carefully. "Not my room; if Naru were to pop in through the hole in the ceiling like she often does, we'd be sunk in an instant. Yours will have a better opportunity for escape if the door is kept shut and we're relatively quiet."

She smiled. "Good thinking! Then, I'll see you in my room at around 10ish tonight, maybe, for a drink? Everyone should be settled out and minding their own businesses by then anyway."

"Okay, I'll see you then! And Kitsune," he said, looking at her seriously, "thank you. For everything."

She smiled at him, mischievously. "Don't thank me for everything just yet, not until I've had the chance to give you something to thank me for!" she told him with a wink, giggling all the harder as she saw the look on his face and the drop of blood already beginning to dribble out his nostril. '_He's still the same Keitaro, at any rate!_' she thought to herself as she leaned in to give him a long, deep, goodbye kiss.

The desperate blast of an out-of-control bus's horn marked the beginning of five seconds that would change their lives beyond recognition.

Keitaro saw it first, just as the horn began to blare. The bus was moving up on the sidewalk toward them extremely quickly, and he had scarcely two seconds to react. With one arm, he pulled his new girlfriend behind him and out of the way; with the other, he concentrated the sheer mass force of his _ki _into the heel of his palm, and hit the tilting side of the bus about to run straight into him.

The force of the impact went far beyond his physical strength. Almost in slow motion, he watched the metal ripple and dent where he hit it, the entire bulk of the bus shifting course away from them at the last possible instant from the sheer power of the hit. The side of the bus missed them by inches, where before it had been set to run straight into them.

The bus still did not stop for the light, its brakes having failed half a block away. To his horror, as he watched, a huge semi traveling on the crossing road plowed into its side, mangling the bus's door and knocking it over on its side. The back end jackknifed toward where they stood, and without hesitation he grabbed hold of Kitsune and leaped out of the way with her just in time as the behemoth automobiles spun and crashed and fell over, plowing through everything in their path.

Keitaro rose first, helping a stunned Kitsune. "You okay?" he asked.

"Y-yeah, I think so," she answered back with a shaky voice, too stunned to register her own fear. They'd been _that _close to being killed! Had Keitaro not done what he'd done, and moved them both out of the way that fast…

The bus was now mangled shut and on its side, its passengers flung around inside and trapped. Something in or on the bus had begun to burn as well; the driver of the semi was stumbling out, alive but badly shaken and staring at the scene in horror.

Keitaro thought fast, then turned to his new girlfriend. "Find a phone, call every ambulance you can get, the fire department, the police, everything! I'm going to help get those people out of there if I can."

Mitsune looked at him, surprised by the sudden fierceness of his demeanor in spite of the chaos around them. "What about—"

"Never mind! Go! Hurry!" he urged, and she started moving toward the nearest shop behind them.

As she arrived at the door, she turned back in time to see Keitaro grabbing hold of the bus' twisted and mangled shut door, wrenching it as hard as he could. In spite of the smoke, the fire, the growing craziness, for a moment she saw only him, hunched over and pulling it like a strongman hefting up a huge stone. With an almost animal-like yell, he began pulling it so hard she wondered if he would pull his arms off his own body. Incredibly, the metal in his grip bent with the grating, prehistoric-sounding clamor of metal on metal, the wrought-iron and thick aluminum edges slowly but surely giving ground and peeling away, until with a final wrench the enire thing came off! Keitaro tossed the twisted metal far off to the side, and immediately dove down to begin pulling out shaken and bloody passengers, one after another. A few in better shape helped him with the others the moment they were free, but the smoke was getting worse by the minute.

Her mind couldn't process it all, not yet. They needed help, and fast. She ran inside and demanded a phone before her newly rampaging thoughts could overwhelm her.

* * *

A.N.: This was a tougher chapter, but a bit more up to what I wanted from it than the original had been. Major credit where credit is due to _Cowboy Bebop: Knocking on Heaven's Door_, from which I got the lines for the "anime" at the beginning of the chapter. (I also got one of Keitaro's attacks from that movie, come to think of it...well, that and a friend of mine that actually tried it once in self defense. More effective than you'd think, apparently.) Other references include Red Dwarf (for all that predetermined destiny smeg). Coming up: heroics, explosions, and smoke inhalation (oh my).


	4. Ch4: Pain What Kicks

Disclaimer, narrated by Yoda: Own _Love Hina, _I do not. If claim to I did, the shadow of Jealousy that would be. And more confident in my ability to draw naked females _properly_, am I. Mmmm…_hmmhmmhmmhmmm_!

(Oh, and I don't own Yoda, either. However, I _do _happen to own a full-sized cardboard standee of Chewbacca, which had been a store display in its former life. The guy in charge of putting them up gave it to me when he was taking it down, as I enjoy both Star Wars and the joke quote sticker someone had stuck on it reading:

I WANT YOUR CHEESEBURGER. YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THAT?

Go figure. On with the story!)

* * *

Chapter 4: Pain What Kicks…

He couldn't see or breathe properly for all the smoke. Over the growing roar of flames, he could still hear voices crying out.

There were cuts and burns all over his arms, as he continued to pull people out of the bus, plucking them from the choking smoke of the interior to the freedom of the light of day.

Almost ten minutes had gone by from the start, though he'd long since lost track of the time. It was getting to be almost impossible to stay on or near the smouldering carcass of the wrecked public transport; with each passing minute, fewer and fewer people could, or would, get near it for the smoke.

Soon, only Keitaro remained to pull out the last of the bus's passengers.

Sweat and grime caked his body and clothing. He felt suffocated, yet did not stop. Somewhere over the blaze, he could still hear them inside, even though they no longer had voices left to cry out.

Somehow, he knew there were two left, deep in the back of the burning vehicle. How he knew they were the last, he couldn't say, didn't care, didn't need to know.

He just did.

And come hell or high water, he wasn't leaving until he had brought them out.

Taking what little breath he could still manage to get, he dove straight into the bus's suffocating black interior.

A spirit not entirely his own moved his aching, exhausted limbs, forced back the growing pain in his skin, his muscles, his lungs. Almost impossibly, he found them both together: a boy and a girl, huddled and nearly unconscious in what might have been the back of the vehicle.

Behind him, the flames had become impassable. They were out of oxygen, and almost out of time.

Grabbing the two youngsters and pulling them close to himself, Keitaro jumped straight up with every ounce of energy he could muster, his _ki _focused in his raised shoulder over his head and in his legs.

In a flash, they were in the light again, shards of glass flying all around them and smoke trailing behind them. Gasping and coughing in air, he found he could suddenly breathe once again.

He landed and tumbled a short distance away from the vehicle in the middle of a crowd of those he had rescued and passing onlookers. As they helped him up, he glanced back at the bus, a dangerous feeling of premonition still cutting into his consciousness. The flames were getting worse by the second, moving along and around the edges and spewing out the hole he had just opened in the thick window near the back end.

The flames were now less than two feet from the machine's exposed fuel tank on the underbelly, and closing fast.

"**It's gonna blow!** **Everyone take cover!**"he yelled, forcing his taxed body to move once again. He hauled the coughing children, one under each arm, as fast and far as he could as the surrounding onlookers rapidly scattered around him, each running, hobbling, dragging the injured with them as fast as they could. Keitaro dove behind the nearest solid cover he could find: a nearby metal dumpster.

Even behind cover, he could feel the shock wave as the remains of the three o'clock main route bus annihilated itself and pelted the surrounding area with hot, mangled shards of its carcass. The sound was louder than anything he'd heard before, loud enough to make his ears ring for hours afterward.

When, moments later, the debris finally stopped falling, he let go of the two children shielded underneath him. They were coughing, slightly scorched, and scared, but they were alive.

He got up and looked around. Slowly but surely, people emerged from behind cars, posts, and doorways, shaken and often injured but very much alive. The scorches, debris, and smoke surrounding the broiling and gutted remains of the public transport showed them just how lucky they'd been not to be on or next to it when it had gone up.

Belatedly, the wailing of approaching sirens announced the arrival of practically every fire truck, ambulance, police car, and rescue worker in town from every direction at once.

It would be a long time before they discovered how late they'd almost been, how close to tragic disaster and mass casualty the crash had come.

As the chaos of people and rescue workers grew, Keitaro wandered aimlessly away, exhausted and all but forgotten in the growing crowds.

He had to find Kitsune. He wouldn't rest until he knew she was alright.

**********

Kitsune was as close to the point of panicking as she had ever felt in her life.

By the time she'd finished an urgent call for every form of rescue worker the town had available, several minutes had past. The smoke around the bus had been growing so thick, it had been almost impossible to see what was going on. She could see a few people working to get the bus's occupants out of the smoldering wreck; a minute later, most could no longer withstand the smoke and flames, and turned instead to hauling the badly injured to safety.

One still remained. He still managed to pull the last few more people out, even after the others had given up trying.

Finally, he stood alone, almost lost in the thick smoke.

With a jolt, she realized who the lone man had to be, and nearly had a heart attack when he jumped _into _the door she knew he'd removed himself.

"KEI!!!" she yelled, but he was already gone from sight.

Ten seconds went by, then twenty. '_What are you doing!? Come on, get out of there!_' she silently pleaded.

Suddenly, a plume of smoke and shattered glass shot out the top side of the bus. To her relief, within the plume was not only Keitaro, but two young children as well!

No sooner had he landed than she began running toward him. Unfortunately, she didn't get very close before she heard him yell, "**It's gonna blow! Everyone take cover!**" and run off, kids still under his arms, to do just that. No one, it seemed, needed to be told twice, and before she knew it she was in a mad rush to get as far away from the burning bus as she could.

Moments later, behind a large parked van, she found out why.

With her ears still ringing from the blast and smoke and debris scattered around her everywhere, she finally emerged from cover with about a half dozen others a few moments later. There was nothing left of the bus, and little left untouched within a block's radius of it, where almost everyone had been standing moments earlier. To her surprise, everyone seemed to be alive; in spite of the devastation and debris, the only thing _not _strewn about everywhere was dead, mangled bodies.

Ruefully, she realized the rescue worker cavalry had only just now arrived, sirens blaring and vehicles pulling up in all directions. They would have been too late to do any good at all, had it not been for Keitaro…

With a start, she remembered him, and realized she didn't see him anywhere. "Kei? _Kei-kun??_" she called out his name repeatedly, picking her way between and around the growing and confused crowds of people gathering all around. There was still thick smoke everywhere; now, after ten minutes of frantic searching, she still couldn't find him.

She almost gave up, almost gave in to the panic. He was gone…_gone! _She couldn't find him! He could be hurt, dying, or dead already. She didn't know, had to find out, had to find _him_, couldn't…

Finally, at the last second before her own fears overwhelmed her, she saw him half-wandering, half-stumbling in her direction. Though he was all but covered in soot, smoke, grime, and dried bits of his own blood (his arms and legs covered with cuts and scrapes), she recognized him instantly. He barely stood on his own feet, but he lived. He looked more exhausted than she'd ever seen him, more than when she'd found him collapsed in his own bed the day before, but he was plenty alive and awake. "KEI!!!!" she yelled, and rushed toward him.

"Kitsu-chan!" he said exhaustedly but with equal gusto, turning and trying to move himself in her direction much more slowly than she. He might have fallen over backwards, had they not embraced one another quite so tightly when they all but collided into each other. For a moment, everything else was overridden, forgotten, or ignored. So glad to see him alive, she held him now like she would never let go; so glad was he to find her alive and unhurt, he forgot all his own pain and exhaustion, the limits of his own physical body, and the fact he had already reached and was now venturing beyond them, and somehow managed to return her hug with equal strength and passion.

A minute later, as they finally pulled away from their embrace, his legs finally gave out underneath him. Stumbling to keep him from falling, Kitsune helped him to the ground, leaning him against a tree. "Are you okay?" she asked with growing concern, her mind coming back to the situation at hand.

"I'm…I'm not hurt or anything, just…just tired…" he said haltingly, looking like death warmed over twice. "Was tired to…to begin with. Did too much…need to rest for a minute…then we need to…get back. They'll be worried…if we don't get back soon…"

She blinked, remembering suddenly what they'd been doing a moment before all hell had broken loose. Groaning, she realized the blast from the bus blowing itself to kingdom come was probably loud enough to hear for miles around, and the smoke would be visible almost as far. They were less than a mile from the inn; she could even almost see it off in the distance.

'_Oh, spit, they're going to be wondering what the hell happened, and it won't be long before they figure out we're still both missing!_' she thought. Looking at Keitaro, she realized he was in no shape to handle a confrontation right now! He hadn't even fully finished healing himself yet, and wasn't doing very well in the process; as she watched him deal with a thin burn along his forearm, it seemed to take him three times as long to work about half as well as it had when she'd seen him doing it the other night.

"How are we gonna tell them about all this? I mean, I'd really like to, just to give you some reason to be able to show off for a change, but…I don't want them to get any ideas that involve them hurting you," she said, glancing in the direction of the inn.

Keitaro paused, trying to muster up enough energy to finish working on the worst of his wounds. "I…I'd rather not tell them…at all, not all of it. I don't…like drawing that much…attention," he said.

She looked at him in surprise. "What do you mean, _not all of it?_"

He closed his eyes and managed half a smirk. "What do you think they'd do, if we went back there…and told them I saved over fifty people…from a burning bus, and…oh, by the way, we're…also officially a couple? Not…not to mention the fact we…were on our way back from having…lunch together. They won't…believe it, will they?"

She paused, then scowled to herself, knowing he was right. "No, I guess not, huh?" A thought occurred to her. "What if we tell them we bumped into each other on the way back, and tell them you were helping out after the crash? They'd believe you'd do that much, right?"

"I…I guess so," he admitted. "But that…doesn't explain what kept you from coming back sooner."

"Hmmm…well, we _could _tell them you got us both out of the way before it hit us."

He looked at her warily. "That…could be dangerous."

Her eyes widened slightly, a sudden twinkle of mischievous flair shining in them. "Not if I'm the one to tell them about it first, and you don't come in until afterward."

"What…what do you mean?"

"Think about it: any way we do it, if we come in _together_, we risk you being attacked. If you went in first, you might get away with an explanation, but in all likelihood you won't, and we'll have the same problem. But if _I _go in and smooth things over before you get there…"

"…they'll probably take your word for it, and you'll have time to…to talk them out of killing me if they don't." Keitaro nodded, catching on quickly. He gave the idea some serious thought for a moment. He really needed to avoid getting hit skyward tonight, that was for certain; the sheer amount of _ki _he had to channel into knocking the bus out of their path, pulling off its badly mangled door, and launching himself with two kids in tow and very little oxygen to work with was tremendous, and physically pulling out dozens of passengers one after another had been strenuous work as well. He was barely capable of healing what minor wounds he had now, let alone to survive something more serious.

One way or another, if he didn't have Kitsune's help right now, he'd be dead by the end of the night. He was simply too damn drained to keep himself going on his own steam.

"Alright, but…whatever you tell them, I need to know what it is in advance, and in full." He sat up, and stood with some difficulty. Mitsune supported him as he rose, watching him carefully to make sure he didn't collapse. "I'll be able to make it there most of the way, but it will be pretty…slow."

The Fox beamed at him, and proceeded to tell him the rest of her plan as they began to make their way back toward the inn.

**********

Almost an hour after the crash, Kitsune walked up the steps to the front entrance of the Hina-Sou alone, while Keitaro made his way (slowly, both by intention and by physical necessity) around the back. They'd split up before they were fully in sight, so as to avoid being spotted together. A quick glance over her shoulder at the still-billowing plume of smoke in the distance, complete with the twinkling of emergency vehicle lights and the distant sound of sirens, was enough to confirm what she'd guessed at earlier.

To Mitsune Konno, known to her friends as Kitsune, the Fox, deception was a fine art form. The trick to success, ironically, was in minimizing the size and scope of the deceit itself. Whether this was accomplished by leaving out a few details or adding one or two key points depended on the situation, the audience, and what needed to be _not _told. The closer any additions were to what was (or very easily could be) the truth, the better.

Putting on her best game face, she opened the front door and walked in.

All five of her housemates were waiting on the other side, emotions ranging from curious to worried sick, to mad as hell. All at once, they barraged her with questions she knew would be coming.

"There you are! Where've you been?"

"Are you all right?"

"What happened?"

"We heard somethin' BLOW UP really loud—"

"Did you see it?"

"Have you seen Sempai anywhere today? Is he okay?"

"What's with all that smoke out there?"

"We thought you might be—"

"Where _were _you!? We were so worried—"

"Heyeyey, easy! Easy! Calm down!" Mitsune waved them to be quiet so she could get a word in edgewise. "I've been a little busy today, and a lot has happened. There was a huge accident between a bus and a tractor trailer, and it was a bit too close for comfort but I'm okay. Keitaro happened to be coming in the same direction I was and knocked me out of the way before the bus ran me over."

The lie was set right next to the most dangerous point of contention. She had decided it best to give the most accurate account possible, and leave out only what was absolutely necessary. She could tell them about most of it, just not the reason they were there or the full extent of Keitaro's recent heroics. Like a magician, she slid it in behind a more blatantly glaring point, one which was seized upon almost instantly by Naru.

"WHAT!? That_ baka _touched you under the guise of saving your life!? I'll—"

"You'll do nothing, Naru Narusegawa! He saved my life fair and square, and were it not for him I'd be a pancake under the wheels of an out-of-control bus right now. The thing's brakes were gone or something! I don't know. What I _do _know is that its _wheels _were two feet over the edge of the sidewalk, and _it _wasn't slowing down. It was a red light, and it kept on going right into a truck going the other way. The _only _reason I stand here now is because _he _had the good sense to yank _me _out of the way! On top of that, he stayed behind to help get people off that bus, and it was a good thing he did, too."

"Why? What happened?" asked Sarah.

"It's fuel tank blew up right after everyone got off."

"AWESOME!!! Was it a big fireball? We heard the BOOM from here!" Kaolla Su immediately piped up, leaping around excitedly. Explosions, after all, were part of the girl's stock and trade.

"Are they okay? Is _he _okay?" Shinobu asked with an undisguised note of worry.

"They're just fine. Last I saw, he was tired and pretty dirty, but otherwise all in one piece. I think he said he'll be back pretty soon," Mitsune again relayed as much of the truth as she was willing to reveal.

What she told them _was _true, in a lot of ways: he _had _pulled her out of the way, and _had _stayed behind and helped a lot of people off that bus. He _hadn't _moved himself out of the way, however; instead, he'd moved the bus. They didn't need to know that any more than they needed to know he'd single-handedly ripped off the door and all but dragged most of the people out of it himself.

"This is…very strange. Are you _sure _Urashima-san was not deceiving you in order to enact his perversions at your expense, or theirs?" Motoko asked warily.

Mitsune sighed in frustration she only partly felt. "Rest assured, Motoko, he wasn't. If he was, I'd be the first to figure it out, would I not?" she challenged her.

Reluctantly, the swordmaiden agreed with her. Granted, it wasn't the very best of explanations, and the margin of safety was only slight. But the explanation was enough to silence their objections for the moment, and that was all the Fox really needed.

That, and a very well-placed blow of redirected guilt to counter the last, most dangerous question of all.

"What _was_ he doing there, anyway?" asked Naru, voice somewhere between simple curiosity and loaded questioning.

Mitsune looked at her pointedly, one eyebrow raised. "I thought you'd know that better than I do. I actually saw him flying overhead not long before the crash."

Naru flushed slightly, suddenly looking quite uncomfortable. "Oh…uh…right." Somewhat embarrassed, she let the subject drop.

At that moment, and for once in his life, Keitaro Urashima arrived at an opportune moment with impeccable timing.

When the collective group of his tenants moved to greet him as a whole, they saw for themselves that he did indeed look to be alright, though he was still clearly exhausted. His clothing was dirty, singed in a number of places, and torn in several more, and his face was covered in sweat and streaks of dust, dirt, and grime. His glasses badly needed cleaning, though he could still see through them, and he was now doing his best to either ward off or answer the fresh barrage of questions now fired in his direction. He answered slowly and haltingly, not really telling the full story by the half but confirming he'd helped "a few people" in getting to safety, Mitsune included. In spite of their renewed pestering, he could only give them a sketchy account of all that had happened (with the same details left out as Mitsune had omitted a moment earlier). He said as little as he could about what he'd done, preferring (as usual) not to take credit for anything he couldn't readily (and safely) get confirmed, proven, or otherwised backed up, and though neither Motoko nor Naru really believed he was telling them everything that had happened, his story matched Kitsune's well enough to keep them from getting suspicious.

When he'd finally managed to break away from his overly inquisitive tenants to get clean (since he reeked of smoke and looked like he'd been stuck in a coal mine for a week, no one objected in the slightest), she'd also managed to escape to her own room.

With her door shut, a cup of _sake _in hand, and all else taken care of, Mitsune finally allowed herself to relax for what felt like the first time all day. Only now did she notice her hands shaking, the only telling sign of all the profound recent stress she'd been through in the last few days. Her brain, finally free and uninhibited by the worry and fear it had to face earlier, began the long process of sorting out the day she'd had, and the new position she found herself in with her _kanrinin_.

Mitsune sighed to herself. What he had done today had certainly impressed her, but it had also scared her badly. She was, admittedly and unabashedly, thrilled by how heroic he'd been in saving all those people, not to mention herself for the second time in three days, but most of all she found herself relieved that he hadn't gotten himself killed. She'd always somehow known he (of all people) would go through damn near anything to protect his tenants, but until that moment she'd never realized just how far he'd go even to protect total strangers as well. Her respect for the _kanrinin_ as a person continued to rise, and her attraction to him rose with it.

Unfortunately, the point she made to him at lunch that he couldn't expect to survive like this forever seemed all the more relevant and pressing because of it. Had she not believed it so much at the time, she might have regretted using it in particular as a lead-in line for getting closer to him as she had.

'_Not that I regret getting closer to him,_' she thought to herself with a grin. If nothing else, at least _that _had gone right today.

Sighing, she glanced at her clock. It was almost time for dinner. She gave herself a quick self-appraising glance and frowned. She, too, was a bit smudged up from the day. Since Keitaro was likely using the shower at the moment, she'd have to wait on taking one herself before she could get the smell of smoke out of her hair. The thought crossed her mind to take one anyway, with him in it or not. She smirked to herself. The idea certainly had a lot of appeal! She doubted they'd get away with it, though; if they tried, he'd probably be torn limb from limb before either of them got in a word edgewise.

Instead, she changed her clothing into something a little cleaner than her current apparel, and made her way down to see about dinner.

Strangely enough, even though it was a Sunday, the residents seemed less than enthusiastic about gathering for their usual meal together tonight. Kaolla Su, always drawn by food, came down only long enough to cart a massive plateful back to her room, claiming she was in the middle of an experiment. Sarah wasn't very far behind.

Naru and Motoko, meanwhile, had come and finished early. By the time Kitsune arrived, they were already on their way toward the hot springs. When they asked if she'd like to join them, she declined, saying she was actually quite hungry at the moment. Indeed, she was; it was rare for her to turn down an easy excuse to take a dip in those soothing waters, as it happened to be one of her favorite activities. They looked at her curiously, but said nothing.

The one person Kitsune _had _expected to be coming down, however, didn't. For half an hour, she and Shinobu ate alone. Both were soon worried, though the Fox was better at hiding it. As she saw Shinobu get progressively more concerned, however, she found herself getting an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. He'd had plenty of time to get clean and redressed by now; what was taking him so long?

Finally, she decided to broach the subject with the young chef. "Shinobu," she asked her, "do you know if Keitaro said he wasn't coming to dinner tonight?"

The younger girl looked at her in surprise, perhaps not expecting Kitsune of all people to be concerned about the same thing _she_ was at that moment. "N-no, he didn't, at least…at least I don't _think _he did. Sempai usually tells me when he needs to s-skip a meal…" Worry and a bit of hurt mixed in her voice as she spoke. "B-but I haven't seen him since he went to get h-himself clean." Mitsune noted a light blush on the cook; she guessed she wasn't the only one that the thought of the _kanrinin_ in the shower had an effect on!

"Hmm…maybe we should check in on him, make sure he's okay. It's been kind of a rough day." The young chef went beat red at her words, causing Mitsune to chuckle. "I mean, we should check his room, you know? See if he fell asleep or something."

"Oh!" the young girl shook her head, perhaps to clear itself of the thoughts that had been running through it. "I…I guess so. Umm, K-Kitsune? Do you…did you see if anything happened to him? He wasn't hurt or anything, was he? It's just that…when he came in, and said you'd both nearly been hit, he looked w-worse than…than he u-usually does and I'm w-worried about him."

Mitsune thought about her question seriously. He _had _been banged up, nothing serious but plenty of small scrapes, which had taken him (comparatively speaking) a long time to address fully. But he hadn't been anywhere near as bad off as she'd seen him the other night, at least not in terms of injuries. Yet now that she really considered it point-blank, he had to be physically drained by now; he'd not only ripped off a badly mangled shut metal door, but also had physically lifted and pulled quite a number of people out of a smoking hellhole, and had done so without rest and with very little air to breathe that wasn't choked with smoke. He'd even dived in and launched back out with two kids in tow. Whatever healing powers he had on his own body, she doubted that he or _anyone_ could have done all that and _not_ exhausted themselves.

Considering how long it had taken him just to walk all the way back afterwards, and remembering how tired he already was, it seemed somehow miraculous that he'd been able to stand up as long as he had already.

"You know what, I think…he's probably just a bit worn out from today, that's all. Tell you what: we'll bring him up some dinner and see how he's doing, alright? We'll go together, so no one will bug us about going to his room or anything"

Shinobu readily agreed with this idea.

**********

When Keitaro had finished cleaning himself of the reek and filth from the smoking wreck he'd managed to pull everyone out of, a level of exhaustion like none he'd ever experienced finally overcame his whole body. He'd barely gotten fresh clothing on before his overtaxed muscles finall gave out completely. His legs, aching and trembling as they'd been for well over an hour, simply couldn't bear his weight any longer, and he fell to his knees. Somehow, he landed sitting up, but awkwardly so; unable to resist gravity's pull, he slid sideways and backward, landing half on the ground and half on his futon. He was not asleep, and didn't feel sleepy, but physically he was simply unable to muster the energy to move his screaming muscles any further. He knew, consciously, that he wasn't paralyzed or dead, but he couldn't will himself to get up again, to move anything, to keep going any further.

His body needed rest, and there was nothing he could say, think, or do to prevent it from getting it. He simply couldn't move.

He remained in this state for over an hour more; he knew dinner time had already come and gone by now, but he didn't have the strength even to get food at this point. He'd burned off his lunch and all his remaining reserves on a bus full of people. Like a machine running on fumes, he had begun to physically shut down in an effort to conserve what little he had left to stay alive.

He would laugh at his own state of weakness right then, had he the energy to do so. As it was, the only thing working properly was his ability to think, and even that wasn't in the best of shape.

It didn't help matters much that he'd breathed so much smoke, either. Breathing had been difficult at best ever since he'd climbed into the thick of it.

When at last he'd recovered enough strength to move again, he crawled back into a sitting position slowly. He needed food, badly. The prospect of getting down the stairs to the kitchen was daunting, however; the possibility of meeting with one of his tenants on the way was even worse.

'_I guess Mitsune was right,_' he thought to himself ruefully. '_Looks like…this is how I'm destined to die._'

Fate, like Mother Nature, could be a royal bitch, sometimes.

Tonight, however, was not to be one of those times. Later, he'd learn that both forces had different agendas and bigger plans for him in mind, but for right then Fate was feeling a little generous.

A knock on the door made Keitaro freeze in place. "S-sempai? Are you okay?" he heard Shinobu's voice ask. "Y-you've missed dinner! I-if you're hungry, I brought you a tray. I-I'm here with Kitsune."

Silently, Keitaro gave thanks to his Maker. It was difficult, but he made it to his door and managed to open it to let the two of them in. The older of the two looked at him in shock, recognizing the difficulty with which he held himself up against the door frame. "Oh, hell, Kei, are you alright?"

"I'm…I'm okay, just really…tired. I had to rest awhile," he said, trying desperately (and failing miserably) to put on a strong front for them. Neither girl was buying it, and they quickly drew him back into his room to sit down again. Shinobu left a platter with a generous helping of everything with him and pleaded with him to eat it. When he'd managed to get some of it down, Mitsune assured the young chef she'd stay with him and make sure he finished it. Though the girl didn't seem to fully trust the Fox (she did have a history of messing with the _kanrinin_, after all), Shinobu finally and reluctantly agreed. She left quickly, closing the door behind her.

When she'd gone, Keitaro sagged a bit. "Damn. Really wore myself out today," he muttered, continuing his meal slowly.

"What happened to you, Kei? Did you fall asleep?" she asked. Somehow, he looked even worse than he had before. Now that he was clean, she could readily see the fatigue in his face and form, which the dirt and grime had partially hidden before.

"No, not really. My body…decided to run out of steam before I did, and I ended up being too tired and sore to move for an hour. I'm still not moving all that well yet, to be honest…Gotta get some food in me; I'm running on empty." He sighed, relieved that he hadn't had to make the full trip to the kitchen. At the rate he was going, it would be midnight before he made it on his own!

"Take it easy, Kei-kun; you keep going like this, and there really _won't _be anything left of you to run."

He closed his eyes. "Yeah…I know," he said quietly. "I guess you were right, huh?"

'_More than I wanted to be, that's for sure!_' she thought. "I guess so, Kei. But I'm not letting you die that easy," she chided. "Not while I owe you my life three times over."

Keitaro paused. "Three?" He could only remember two!

She smirked. "Once on Friday from those creeps, and twice today. You pushed me out of the way of that bus, and you warned me and everyone else to get away from it before it blew up.

"Oh, yeah…I guess you're right," he chuckled softly. "Forgot about that part. Sorry, guess I'm a little sore for clear thinking right now."

"Where does it hurt?" she asked him, concern in her voice.

"Uh…well…it's…uh…pretty much everywhere at the moment, actually." he said, forcing himself to consider it carefully. "My arms…and my back seem to be the worst, though. Too much lifting, I gue—_huh!?_" He was startled to find her hands gently grab his shoulders, slowly working them to undo the knots in the muscles. It felt…surprisingly good.

"I don't claim to be an expert at this or anything, but I think at the very least I can make a few things a _little_ less sore," she spoke to him softly, feeling him slowly relax as she worked. '_You know, come to think of it, this ain't a half bad thing to do: I get to help him out and feel him up at the same time!_' she thought to herself, enjoying the opportunity to come in closer contact with her new boyfriend earlier in the evening than had been originally planned. As he continued to eat almost subconsciously, she moved on to his arms. They were larger and thicker than she'd expected, the musculature more defined than the loose shirts he often wore ever really let on. It occurred to her that he was better at hiding much of his own nature than anyone really gave him credit for. Bit by bit, she made him relax even further. By the time he'd finished his meal, she'd moved on to his back. Suddenly, he tensed up, as though in pain, and gasped slightly. "N-not…not there. One of my rib's still kinda tender there from earlier today," he said haltingly.

"Oh! Sorry, Kei," she moved away, deciding to draw him into a backward hug instead. Amazingly, whether because he really had become more relaxed, or because he was too tired to tense up in fear of being in such close physical contact with someone in the Hina-Sou, he didn't jump out of his skin or make an effort to resist. Instead, she felt his head nuzzle on of her arms softly. In spite of everything, she was surprised most of all by how remarkably _warm _he felt, even worn down as he was now. She rested her head on his shoulder, holding him tighter for a long moment.

A thought soon crossed her mind, something that she realized had been bugging her in the background all day. "Earlier today, when you were pulling those people out, how'd you know those kids were still in there, anyway? When you jumped in…I couldn't see anything outside the bus very well, let alone inside."

Keitaro thought a moment before answering. "Remember earlier when I told you everyone generates _ki_?"

"Yeah, I remember you telling me that." She paused, recalling what he'd said.

"That's how I found them. One of the little tricks with _ki_, if not one of the most useful, is that you can sometimes _feel _that of another person. Some martial arts use it as a means to sense the intent of an attacker, like when they're about to attack and how. I don't often use it, but…when you can't see your hands in front of you, or can't see which direction danger is coming from, it's almost like having a partial sixth sense of a sort. That's also how I knew that bus was about to hit us; mostly, I felt how horrified that poor driver was that he couldn't stop or swerve in time."

Mitsune felt the hair on her arms stand on end, briefly. He hadn't _seen_ the bus coming, and neither had she. Now that she thought of it, it had been moving so fast toward them they'd never have physically seen it until it was too late, even if they'd been looking in that direction. He'd _felt _the danger, and acted on instinct. She began to wonder what else he could do; what really unnerved her about it was that she _didn't _feel unnerved by his talents, only relieved he had them.

Thinking about the moment the bus had barreled into their path brought back another memory just then. To her mind, it was somehow a lot more important to her now than anything else. "You know, Kei, I'd almost forgotten there was something I wanted to give you before that bus so _rudely _interrupted me."

"Hmm? What would that be, Kit?" he asked, turning in her arms to look at her face.

"This," she replied with a smile, and kissed him long and deeply.

* * *

A.N.: Well, that was essentially the same thing I'd written originally, but in a bit of a different order. Yes, I realize I'm probably taking it easy on Keitaro at the moment, but believe me he's got a lot to face later on. I'll admit, things get progressively more on the side of epic from here on out, but it will take a while to fully realize just how much. It's safe to say, however, that bigger problems are on the horizon…

Props to the game _Marathon_ for inspiration for the title, and also to the brief thematic song "Powder" from the Cowboy Bebop movie I mentioned last chapter during the bus incident. As a side note: if you want to write scenes with a certain feel to them, listen to appropriate music while you write them. I guess Keitaro is unfortunate in the sense that I've been listening to a combination of Cowboy Bebop tracks and the _Halo _themes lately…


	5. Ch5:Shiek Yerbouti and the VF Mudshark

Disclaimer: Ayyy-YUHtuhTUHtuhTUHtuh-tuhTAAHtuhTAAAH, I don't real-ly OWN THIS SHIIIiiiiIIIT! TAH!

Yeah, I know. Lame. Whatever. And now for something completely different…

* * *

Chapter 5: Shiek Yerbouti and the Vanilla Fudge Mudshark

The core of Motoko Aoyama's _Shinmei-ryu_ training centered on the detection, identification, and eradication of evil in every form. She was, in fact, quite good at detection and eradication, and often trained the hardest in these particular aspects.

It was in identification that she had the most trouble of all.

Such was the difficulty that evening. When Kitsune had returned late that afternoon, her story had seemed true enough to Motoko; of course, she could be a master at deception when she wished, but by her body language at least the bulk majority of what she had told had been the truth. The fact that Keitaro's story had matched hers well enough to confirm it, of course, lent greater credibility: the _kanrinin_ was by far the poorest liar Motoko had ever met. Though she doubted he was telling them everything that had happened, he'd given no real sign of deception in what he had told.

Still, in spite of a lack of evidence, something did not seem to fit right.

After rain had washed out her trip to the inn's hot springs, Motoko had returned to her room. On the way back, she'd paused to take notice of their activities, and found nothing incredibly out of the ordinary. Kitsune was in her own room, nursing a drink; Keitaro had apparently turned in early for the night.

The only odd thing, to her mind, was that it was unusually early in the evening for the _kanrinin_ to be turning in. She considered it carefully a moment, mentally reviewing the way he'd appeared that afternoon. Aside from the specifics of the situation, Motoko had noted a few things that had seemed unusual to her at the time. Though he was certainly acting as he normally might in such a situation, it seemed he was doing just that: _acting_ like he normally would, as though a part of him wasn't quite up to being himself. To be sure, he wasn't (as far as she could tell) up to his usual random and perverse acts, or trying to cover up or explain them as usual; yet somehow it seemed as though he wasn't trying to get away with something so much as trying to end the conversation quickly.

She wondered what the rush might have been. Had he been concealing something after all? Or was something else wrong altogether? She looked at his doorway again. The lights were out, though she could hear him inside. Was he trying to rest? Perhaps that was it. If he'd been tired, his behavior would make a little more sense. Somewhat more satisfied by this thought, Motoko finally left the second floor entirely and continued to her own room.

As thunder rumbled outside minutes later, however, an unusual sense of distant foreboding crossed Motoko's mind. Whatever had happened today, something wasn't quite right, and though it didn't seem to be the _kanrinin_ himself it somehow was related to him. There was some distant, approaching evil hovering on the edge of her senses she couldn't identify, like a cloud hidden among clouds that was slowly awakening into a coming storm. Now that she was fairly certain it wasn't the _kanrinin_ himself that was the source of it, she could only wonder why she still felt it had something to do with today, and with him.

At the very least, Motoko reasoned as she prepared herself for a night's rest, the _kanrinin _hadn't tried anything perverted tonight. For that, she would have to let the matter rest. For now.

Late that night, Keitaro sat by himself, thinking.

Hours earlier, Kitsune had (very reluctantly) left for her own room; neither of them had wanted to start a confrontation with the other residents over their proximity to one another tonight, and they'd been fortunate to have the weather give them some forewarning. When it had begun to rain, Kitsune had known they were out of time, since both Naru and Motoko had gone to the hot springs. Since the area was essentially outdoors, both were likely to have ended their baths the moment the rain had begun. They'd separated only just in time even then, as a minute after she'd gone back to her own room and he'd turned out his lights to go to sleep, he'd heard both Naru and Motoko moving up toward their rooms on the third floor. At least one of them had paused along the way, but hadn't stayed long.

Still, even interrupted like that they'd enjoyed a fair amount of time together in peace, about half an hour or so. Most of it had been spent in close contact, holding and kissing one another while they still had the opportunity.

His thoughts turned back to the events of the day, and to the hellish wreck that had once been a public transportation vehicle. In the back of his mind, he knew he'd been on it before many times, and buses just like it. The thought of something that had been a part of the daily lives of so many people almost becoming their tomb disturbed him greatly. He'd seen them on board; the driver and passengers, suddenly and violently in a situation beyond their own control. They were injured and disoriented as the machine was struck and toppled over; they were blind and panicking as smoke filled the interior, their only way out crumpled and mangled shut. Keitaro hadn't pulled a stunt like what he'd had to pull with that door in years, but he certainly knew how. Because he did, and because he'd faced it all to the very end, he knew those people would be with their families tonight, alive and well. That fact alone was worth the pain, the exhaustion, and the risk.

It was late, and he was tired. His body ached to sleep, to wear away at the strain it had undergone. It was nearly midnight now. He slowly forced his mind to quiet itself down; there would be no rest for the weary if he kept thinking so much. Outside, the rain got even heavier, and the thunder louder.

Somehow, he finally managed to lapse into a fitful night's rest.

The downpour lasted the rest of the night and the majority of the next day unabated.

Haruka Urashima scowled at the foul weather from under her umbrella and raingear, a cigarette barely staying lit between her lips as she walked away from the building that for years had served as both residence and livelihood, the Hinata Tea House. She was at odds with the weather this morning; more accurately, one could say she had half a mind to strangle the rain clouds with her bare hands at the moment. The elements had taken their best shot at her early in the morning, when errant lightning had knocked out the Tea House's power and phone lines. This was problematic, of course, for running a proper business, let alone for making breakfast. Unfortunately, getting the problem fixed meant calling the utility companies, and the nearest working phone (she hoped) was a walk through the pouring rain away at the neighboring Hinata-Sou. Her irritation was compounded by the fact that the wind had also decided to get in on the act, and random gusts kept driving the rain sideways past her face.

Being at odds with Haruka was never a good idea to begin with. Messing with Haruka's morning dose of nicotine was much worse by far, and the clouds were quite lucky not to have necks. If they did, they'd be broken at this point.

In spite of all this, Haruka remained quite calm.

She entered the former inn with her own set of keys; she was, after all, related to the owner (present and former), and was in effect the "house mother" of the place, a position that made her both advisor and, oftentimes, disciplinarian to both the current landlord and his tenants. It was still relatively early, she knew, but by now Keitaro and at least most of his tenants would be awake.

To her surprise, so was the one she hadn't expected to be.

"Morning, Haruka! _Lovely_ weather we're having, huh?" Mitsune greeted her with an almost cheeky smirk, looking at the now damp and barely lit tube hanging from the older woman's lips in amusement.

"Bite me, and good morning to yourself, Mitsune" she grumbled back as she removed her wet gear. "Is the phone here still working? I lost mine with my power last night to this upper atmospheric pain in the ass we're having."

"Uhh, far as I know, it is. I don't think anyone's made any social calls yet this time of the morning, though, so I don't think anyone's tested it yet. Go ahead and try if you like," the younger woman replied casually.

"Thanks. Let Keitaro know I'm here if you see him." Haruka decided to give up on her ruined smoke and lit another one instead. "I hate rainstorms," she muttered to herself in the process.

As she went to leave the room, Mitsune suddenly stopped her, speaking up again. "Uhh, Haruka…would you mind terribly if I talked to you about something? After you're done racking the utilities over the coals, of course."

Haruka glanced back at her with some caution; usually, when Kitsune had something to discuss with Haruka, she was either up to something, or worried about some problem she couldn't readily deal with on her own. Either way, it wasn't usually good news. Still, Haruka wasn't one to ward the Fox off without finding out which of the two it was first. "Sure, no problem. Just give me a minute."

"Thanks," Mitsune said in a surprisingly genuine tone.

Haruka sighed to herself as made her way to the nearest phone. Usually, they came to her at the Tea House on their own when they had problems; more often than not, they seemed to revolve around Keitaro more than anything. Though she was well aware of what he could physically do if he so chose, the reason he never chose to do it to or in front of them eluded her.

In his place, she'd have kicked their asses halfway to Kyoto and back for the things they put him through daily a long time ago. Patience, it seemed, was more his virtue than hers.

Ten minutes later, she hung up the phone in mild exasperation. There had, apparently, been quite a few outages due to the weather all over the place. Though Haruka held quite a lot of sway with more than one local official (either by personal connection or by a degree of intimidating reputation), the best time she'd managed to get for anyone to come out and fix her lines was still late that night or early the next day. Granted, it was better than three, but it still left a lot to be desired.

Deciding the day was basically blown as far as opening shop for business, Haruka settled herself in the dry shelter of the commons room rather than face the rain and a lightless home front again. For a moment, she considered her options. If the repairmen didn't get her by tonight, she'd likely have to spend a night here, taking one of the spare rooms. She'd need Keitaro's permission, of course, though she doubted he'd refuse at any rate. Knowing him, he'd more than likely let her stay a week and haul her bags up himself through the rain if she let him.

One of these days, she knew, his almost irrepressible noble impulse would bring more hell down on his head than he ever bargained for. Ironically, it was his very unwillingness to publicly show off what he could do that kept it from finding him thus far. It wouldn't last forever, but for now it made his life both a lot simpler and a lot more of a headache at the same time.

But that wasn't up to her, of course. She just had to be ready when it happened.

A few moments later, a slow shuffling announced the presence of the _kanrinin_ himself. Carrying a mop and bucket, he was somewhat surprised to find her there as he entered the common room and stopped to greet her.

"Oh, hey Aunt Haruka—" **WHACK!** "OW!"

"It's Haruka-_san_, for the umpteenth time! Don't call me 'aunt'," she scolded him, putting the fan she'd used on the back of his head away in her clothing again. Somehow, she never missed, even on a backward blind swing, as she had just proven. He'd been calling her "aunt" since he was a toddler; truth be told, they were biological first cousins, though she was the older of the two by a number of years. In spite of this, she _had_ been adopted by their grandmother, and thus (technically speaking) was both. Much as she acted the part of an aunt, even a second mother, she still hated how old it made her sound.

"Sorry," he said, rubbing the back of his head and yawning. "I heard you were having trouble with your phone from Kitsune. Anything I can help you with? I might be able to help fix it…"

"Don't worry about it, Keitaro. As far as I know, it's the main lines that got hit, and that makes it the utilities' problem, and they'll take care of it by tomorrow. Besides which, I don't want you getting yourself electrocuted," Haruka replied politely.

"Oh…alright. Well, you're welcome to stay here if you'd like in the meantime; I know you don't care much for this kind of weather."

Haruka turned to look at him as she spoke, not noticing his condition until she saw him. "I know, Kei. Well, how have you been…oh, hell, Kei, you look terrible! What happened?" She got a good look at him. The circles under his eyes were even deeper than usual, and she could see his entire form sagging. He seemed thinner and even more careworn around his face than ever, as though he'd been doing far too much on far too little rest. She'd seen him like this before a few times, and had been forced to intervene on his behalf in some way each time. Now, though, he looked even worse.

"I'm okay, Haruka, just a bit tired really. I've…been a little busy lately," he replied in a slightly distracted tone, as though there was a lot more on his mind than he cared to divulge. "Still am, I'm afraid. Call me if you need anything." On that, he made his way out of the room, apparently on his way to tackle another chore. A moment later, he stopped, changed direction, and went another way, as though he'd forgotten where he was going.

'_If he keeps going like that,_' she thought as he left, '_He's going to need more than he can give._'

Her thoughts were interrupted by the reappearance of Mitsune a minute later, who was glancing in every direction to make sure they were alone. Satisfied, she sat across from Haruka and asked, "Umm, I take it you're free to chat now?"

"Free as ever. Fire away," Haruka replied. After seeing Keitaro, _she _had more than one thing to ask Kitsune about anyway.

"I don't know what you do or don't know about what I'm going to ask, but it CANNOT leave this room, okay?"

Haruka was becoming increasingly intrigued. The Fox was a well-known conspirator, of course, but there was a tone of deadly seriousness in her voice now that she'd never heard her use before. "Go on."

"Alright. Uhh…in the last few days, a few things have been happening, big things, and they've made things a bit more complicated. Well, a lot more, actually."

A pit began to grow in Haruka's stomach. "How so?"

"Well, a few nights ago, there was…another incident, with Keitaro. Nothing too much out of the ordinary, mind you, but…well, a pretty rough one on him. I wasn't there at the time, but from what I saw afterward he'd been hit by Su first, then Naru, then Motoko, like a pinball."

Haruka winced to herself. She'd seen the end results of their attacks more often than anyone; individually, they were bad enough, but anytime they happened in combination, the damage was magnified significantly.

"Anyway," Mitsune continued, "the thing was that he didn't fly quite as far as he usually does, and when he landed, it happened to be right nearby where I was walking. I got curious about it somehow, and… I ended up seeing him, and he was hurt badly. Really…really badly." Now it was the Fox's turn to cringe. "But then…he healed himself! He did it right in front of me, without realizing I was there until afterwards."

Haruka frowned darkly. "So, you finally saw what you've all been doing to him for once? About damn time."

"Yeah, I…I know that now," the younger woman replied softly, her eyes lowering. "Anyway, when he realized I was there, I…I ended up running away. I…couldn't face him just then, not like that. But it didn't do me any good; I ran into a gang of thugs by accident, and they weren't the sort you want to run into alone on a Friday night."

Haruka started. "What!? What happened? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Mitsune quickly tried to reassure her. "It's okay, I'm alright, I _shouldn't _be but I am. Keitaro helped me. When they tried to attack me, he mopped the floor with them! They're all in jail now, I'm sure, but he didn't stick around to take credit for it. He carried me home instead; I'd…well…kinda fainted at that point," she admitted, a bit embarrassed suddenly.

Haruka calmed, though only partly. "Shit, Mitsune, you're supposed to let me know _right away_ if something like that happens to one of you!"

"Yeah, I know, I know but…well, a lot's happened in the last few days. This is the first chance I've really had so far."

Haruka was nonplussed, but let the matter slide for the moment. "What about Keitaro? Is he okay?"

"He's well enough, or was at that point. They didn't hurt him at all; I don't think they ever had a chance, after what I saw him do. I never knew he could fight like that! But then, until that night I thought he was practically immune to harm, too. He did end up carrying me back here and spending the rest of the night doing repairs, though. He…also tucked me in and left me breakfast in the morning." The young woman flushed slightly and shifted nervously in her seat, somewhat uncharacteristically.

Haruka's eyebrow went up. Kitsune being a flirt and causing no end of men's nosebleeds (Keitaro's in particular) was quite a common sight; Kitsune acting nervous or embarrassed about _any_ guy (and again, Keitaro in particular) was a much different story. "Hmmm…not quite so careless and stupid as you thought he was, eh?" she pried suggestively. Mitsune pinked even further. '_Yep. Nailed it on the head._'

"Yeah, I, uhh…I kinda started to figure that one out." Mitsune struggled to regain control over herself, annoyed that she'd been seen through by Haruka as quickly and easily as she had. As the older woman went to light a fresh smoke, the Fox decided to drop her next bombshell and even the score a bit. She lowered her voice to a more secretive, conspiratorial tone.

"I ended up talking with him about it later on; I…actually apologized for my end of…of his suffering around here. Anyway, we got a bit closer as we talked, and I learned more about him. And just yesterday, at lunch, we…decided to become a couple."

Haruka's eyebrows both went _way _up and her jaw hung slightly open, her still unlit cancer stick dropping in her lap. "What!?"

Mitsune couldn't help but giggle at the sight. "Yeah, kinda surprised me at first, too, but…it was my idea to get together with him, and his to make it official to each other, so…now we are."

Haruka recovered quickly, and began to chuckle heartily. '_Dammit, who would've thought? Now I owe Hina fifty thousand Yen,_' she thought to herself, silently cursing the day she thought she could out-bet the original owner of the inn. "I take it that's why you want me so tight-lipped about everything, right?" she asked.

"Umm, part of the reason, yeah. We're the only ones that know, right now," she said, checking around again to make sure there were no prying ears about. "If that were all of it, though, I wouldn't bug you about it, though. See, something else happened right after we got together, just yesterday, and it's the main reason why I needed to talk to you."

The pit in Haruka's stomach deepened. "What is it?"

Mitsune looked at her seriously. "That bus accident yesterday…did you hear about it?"

Haruka's brow lowered in thought and curiosity. "Yeah, I think so. Caught a bit about it on the news last night. Said somebody managed to pull everyone out alive, but they didn't know who it was yet."

"I do," Mitsune said quietly. "Not only did he save their lives, he saved mine _again_. And he damn near dropped dead from exhaustion afterwards."

Understanding dawned on Haruka immediately. Suddenly, the conversation had grown much more serious. "Oh, hell."

"Yeah. I know, pretty wild, huh?" Mitsune said, not noting the full extent of the change in demeanor Haruka had just undergone. "From what I saw, he hit the bus sideways—_hit it with his __**hand, **_mind you—and then he tore the bus's door off its hinges. It was all mangled shut, and he got all super _ki _powered or something! He pulled almost all of them out himself, even jumped in to grab a couple kids. On top of that, he warned everyone before it blew up!"

Haruka nodded, processing the information. Fighting the thugs was one thing, she knew, and wasn't going to draw that much attention; what Mitsune was telling her now, however…

"How is he? Was he hurt?" she asked.

"Umm, not exactly. I mean, he was a bit scraped up and singed afterward, but nothing too serious along those lines. But, he really wore himself out doing it all. I mean, he didn't even make it down to dinner, I had to bring it up to him with Shinobu last night. He'd basically burnt himself out doing all that, and he was tired enough to begin with! He was better off after eating, but…it really worries me. I mean, in that condition, if he accidentally crossed Naru or Motoko, or if one of Su's inventions went haywire again…I don't think he would have survived it at that point. I want to help him out, Haruka. He got lucky last night, and part of that was me stacking the deck in his favor as best I could, but…I'm scared to death he won't be so fortunate forever. I don't think I've ever seen him get so worn out before, ever. And that's why I need your help."

Haruka felt a chill in her spine. She knew far more than either the Fox or the _kanrinin _did, and what she knew was not good news for either of the two. Keitaro had, by Mitsune's account, practically given a public display of power that wouldn't go unnoticed. In the back of her mind, she'd always known it was almost inevitable; much as Keitaro kept his strengths private, it was only a matter of time before he'd have to use them. Right now, his problems seemed pretty well-defined: he was beginning a new relationship, his nature had driven him to great deeds, and his deeds were quickly wearing him out and leaving him vulnerable in ways he otherwise wouldn't be. His life was in danger for that reason alone, if nothing else were to come of it.

Unfortunately for Keitaro, his tenants were no longer his greatest threat. At the moment, time was.

Haruka rubbed her temples, thinking furiously. The first problem was, indeed, how tired he was. That had to be remedied, NOW. He would need as much time as he could get to recover, and there was little enough now to spare as it was. "Mitsune, I _can_ help you both, but this isn't going to be very easy. Keitaro…might be in worse trouble than you know."

Mitsune blinked in surprise. "W-what do you mean, _more?_ What could be more trouble than what he's in now? He's already facing death as it is!"

"A lot more than you know, Konno-san," Haruka said gravely. "But there's no time for explanations now." She stared at Mitsune hard, her expression so deadly serious it sent chills down the younger woman's spine. "Listen to me, and listen well. You and Keitaro are going to have to leave for a while together. He desperately needs rest, and he won't get it here in a million years. I need _you_ to convince him to go, and quickly. Knowing him, he won't be very willing at first, so tell him I will take over as _kanrinin_ while you're gone. I'll do what I can to deal with the others before your return. Can you do that for me?"

Kitsune blinked in surprise, but nodded her agreement. She'd hoped for help, but she'd never expected Haruka to go quite so far, so fast! She couldn't argue with the idea of being alone with her new boyfriend, though, especially if it meant he'd be without the responsibilities and dangers of dealing with the Hina-Sou for a while. "That'd be great, Haruka! But…where will we go? And how long?"

"I can't tell you where you'll be going just yet; I have an idea, but it's best that you don't know until you get there. I'll have someone drive you both, someone I can trust. But you have to go as soon as possible. Tonight, even."

"Tonight!? Why so soon?" she asked, now thoroughly shocked.

"Because you are _both_ going to need the rest and privacy for more than one reason, and you might not get the chance again for a while to come if you don't get it now."

Mitsune was stunned, then wary. "What do you mean, Haruka? What's going on? What aren't you telling me!?"

Haruka sighed briefly, then resumed her hard stare. "Listen, Konno-san: I promise you that you will know more later. For now, I need to know that you're ready and willing to stick by Keitaro absolutely; if you have _any _doubts, _say so now!_"

Mitsune registered the seriousness and urgency in Haruka's voice. She knew something, and whatever it was scared her now almost as much as facing down the business end of Motoko's sword herself. For anyone else, she might have backed off and gotten out of it while she still could. For Keitaro…she knew that simply wasn't an option to her. Come what may, she wasn't about to let fear get between her and him like that!

"I have no doubts, Haruka; I already promised to help him, and I won't back down from that. Whatever he's up against, I'll go with him to face it."

Haruka sighed in relief, and nodded. "Then pack enough for several days, and get Keitaro to do the same. Do _not_ tell anyone else what you're doing, or where you're going, or why. In fact," she said, lowering her voice even further, "I'd drop your bags out your windows, and grab them from the outside individually. I need to make a few phone calls; you leave tonight. I will handle the rest. Go!"

Mitsune was in motion before she knew what she was doing. As she left to find Keitaro and pack, Haruka checked the room quickly herself. The others, it seemed, were occupied elsewhere at the moment. She made her way back to the phone. Dialing a number she knew by heart, she waited (and silently prayed) for it to connect. Finally, to her relief, it did.

"…….?"

"It's me, Haruka. What are you up to?

"………"

"Good, very good. Listen: I need you to pack your bags and a few supplies and come up, immediately."

"……?"

"_No_, that's not the reason why. If it was…look, never mind that right now, we've got bigger problems to deal with."

"…?"

"Bigger."

"…!"

"Unfortunately, yes. There's a problem, though: he's exhausted."

"…?"

"One of the girls figured it out, at least part of it."

"…??"

"Uh-huh."

"…!...?"

"You'll find out when you get here, _baka_. She's going as well."

"…?"

"Not yet. You'll have to tell them yourself; it isn't safe for me to do so yet."

"……?"

"I wish I knew. It can't be much longer, and we can't wait to find out. They'll both need what time they can get. Especially him."

"……"

"Okay, see you soon. Oh, and don't forget to bring _it_."

"…!...?"

"_Of course I'm damn sure about this! _We've been waiting for it, haven't we!? Just bring it all with you, and don't go waving any of it around where it can be seen."

"…_!_"

"Oh, very funny. Just get over here, will you!?"

"**…!**…"

"Alright. See you soon. Bye."

Haruka hung up the phone, sighing in relief and frustration. '_Damn fool was lucky to be on the other end of a phone line, and not in the same room!_' she thought grumpily to herself, not sure whether to smirk to herself or put her fist through something. Still, she was glad he was still around to take the call; she needed his help most of all at the moment. The next few calls were just as urgent to be sure, but at least she had a better than slim chance of actually getting a hold of them than she usually did of him. Collecting herself again, she picked up and dialed the next number.

**********

Mitsune hated running around. Her core philosophy in life had always been to avoid doing more than was necessary, and to find ways to reduce what she had to do even then. She was also fairly intelligent, and prone to planning ahead. Such it was that she kept a mostly-ready travel bag packed in her closet; all she had to do was add a few choice outfits, throw in a couple bottles of fresh _sake_, and zip it up. Five minutes and a dark plastic bag later, she was ready.

Her next problem would be more difficult: find Keitaro, get him alone, and convince him to go with her on a trip to parts unknown for an unknown length of time, all for the sake of resting up before a headlong plunge into something she was fairly sure was going to be either long and unpleasant, extremely dangerous, difficult, or some combination of all the above.

On the plus side, they'd get to spend a bit of time together unbothered and unmolested—or at least she hoped.

Finding him proved more difficult than she'd thought. He wasn't in his room, or the halls, or anyone else's rooms that she could see. Finally, she noted that the door to the inn's storage cellar was slightly ajar, and went inside. Sure enough, she found him there, but not how she'd expected to find him.

He had somehow fallen asleep leaning back against a wall, propped up by his mop (which had wedged itself in a crack in the floor in front of him). At his feet was a fresh, unopened bottle of cleanser and an empty bucket, both lying almost directly under his limp right arm. His left hand still held the handle.

"Kei?" she asked him softly, and he woke with a start.

"Huh, what? Oh, hey Kitsu-chan," he smiled at her brightly as he regained his bearings. "Sorry, didn't notice you there."

"Don't worry about it, Kei," she said, giving him a hug. "You still look awfully tired there. You okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, just…I'm still a little drowsy today. Storm kept me up last night, I think," he replied after returning the hug and coloring slightly. "Should have had more coffee, I guess."

She frowned. "I think more sleep and less housework is more like it! You know, I think you could really use a bit of a break from all this. Maybe take some time off."

He shook his head. "Yeah, but there's still a lot I've gotta get done around here. The place doesn't exactly run itself that well. Besides, I don't think I could afford a vacation." He scratched his head.

"Hmmm…what if I told you someone's offered to cover for you while we're gone?"

"Huh? Who—wait, we…what?" Keitaro tried to catch up with what she was saying.

"_We_, that's you and me together, going away for a while somewhere, with Haruka up there filling in as manager while we're gone, such that _you_ can get some rest and _we _can spend some time together…without worrying about _them_," she said slowly, pointing when appropriate toward themselves, the commons, and the rest of the inn.

"How? Why?" he asked, surprised and more than a bit confused.

"Haruka!" she answered with a grin. "She's insisted. I told her about us."

"What? When?" he asked in shock.

"Just a few minutes ago! I asked her to help me help you, and she's arranging to have us get out of here for a while. While we're gone, she's going to do something about keeping _them_ from getting on your case so much before we come back. She'll fill in for you as _kanrinin_ while we're gone."

"Wow, that's…that's really nice of her. But, why?"

"Well, quite frankly, because both she _and _I now think you're going to drop over dead from exhaustion if you don't, and we're not gonna let you kill yourself working to death."

He frowned. "I get that, but…I'm doing a little better today, anyway." His voice sounded less confident than his words.

"Kei, you just fell asleep standing up right in front of me!" she told him, looking him in the eye. "Earlier this morning, when Su greeted you with her foot, you stayed in a heap against the wall for ten minutes before you came to, and it usually takes you less than ten _seconds_. You _need _rest, and you're not getting it here."

"I…I did?" She nodded earnestly. He tried to straighten up and apologize, out of force of habit; as he did, he swayed slightly on his feet. She caught hold of his shoulders before he could topple over.

"Kei, please hear me. You've done plenty enough around here, and you deserve a break for it. Hell, you should've taken three by now! There'll be time later to do more, but I know for sure that if you don't get a chance to really recuperate from everything for a few days you won't be alive to take one before you know it! You've gotta take some time to take care of _you_, once in a while, or you won't be around to take care of anyone else. Please? I…don't want to lose you to _you_. Not like this." She looked at him pleadingly, eyes open wider than usual and a look on her face that broke through any objection he could think of and couldn't bring himself to refuse. Finally, he relented with a sigh.

"Alright. When do we leave?"

"Tonight at the latest. Haruka's getting us a ride. Come on, I'll help you pack. Oh, and one thing before we go back up."

"What's that?" he asked.

"Is there any good rope down here? We're going to need it."

Hours later, the two were sitting out front of the Tea House under an awning, huddled together with travel bags at their sides. Haruka stood nearby, struggling yet again to keep the soggy roll between her lips from going out every thirty seconds. She watched the two of them together; with no one from the Hinata nearby, sheltered in the rain and semidarkness, they could comfortably sit together without being noticed. Keitaro was still struggling to stay awake, barely managing to do so; poor kid looked even worse for the wear than she'd initially thought. Kitsune rested against him, one arm around his back to both support and hold onto him.

"You sure about this?" he asked her presently. "I don't want to have to burden you with the inn…"

"Don't worry about it, kid. Last I heard, the repairs on the Tea House's power are going to take a while as it is. I'm going to close shop here for a while one way or another anyway. You're going to need all the rest you can get, so take it while you still can."

It might have occurred to Keitaro, as it had to Kitsune, that there was more behind that statement than Haruka was letting on, but either he was too tired to pick up on it or too relieved to have his burden temporarily lifted to care. He still worried deeply about his tenants, but he knew Haruka could and would take good care of them.

"What are you gonna do about _them?_" Mitsune asked out of curiosity, nodding back toward the inn.

Haruka smirked. "For starters, I'm going to start talking some sense into their thick skulls about _him_." She nodded in Keitaro's direction. "It's about time they had a bit of a reality check."

Keitaro looked up in worry. "Please, go easy on them," he pleaded. "This isn't really their fault, and I don't want them feeling guilty or anything."

She looked at him straight on. "One way or another, they're going to find out, Keitaro. Mitsune here already knows, and it'll be better for the both of you in the long run if they were told separately."

"What if they don't understand?" he asked, still unconvinced.

"They will by the time you get back," she reassured him. "I'll see to it that they do. Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt them or anything. Just get them to open their eyes a bit."

He sighed, somewhat relieved. "Thanks, Haruka." Keitaro began to nod off again.

Five seconds later, however, he was jarred wide awake and almost clear out of his seat by the sound of a van crashing down out of the air and rolling to a stop in front of them.

* * *

A.N.: Don't ask about the title. Credit for its inspiration comes from Frank Zappa, and if you don't know who he was…well, don't say I didn't warn you if you try and find out. I'm not even going to attempt explaining it; he defies explanation. But his music is something else.

At any rate, took longer than I expected to tweak this chapter into shape, though I kept a bit more of the original than I anticipated at first. I think the main difficulty is in getting the characters to come out right, to try and anticipate how they might react to certain things for example. It's probably the main reason I picked Keitaro and Kitsune as a pair, aside from just liking them together: I kind of understand them a bit better than I do some of the others, or at least I feel like I do at any rate. Plus, I think they have a greater potential to develop than some of the others do; they have a little less hanging them up personality-wise than, for instance, someone like Motoko or Naru. Case in point: just think of many years and hemming and hawing it took for them to pair Keitaro and Naru in the main canon.

The next chapter or two will be a little less immediately dangerous for the duo, and a little more of a breather than they've had so far. Expect a little more romance, then a hell of a lot more action after that. Expect a few more characters along the way as well.

Also, if anyone knows of a bigger or cooler-looking shotgun than a Benelli M3 Super 90, feel free to let me know what it is/looks like soon, as I'm going to need its name before very long…


	6. Ch6: Feeling, Sweet Feeling

Disclaimer: Really, must I repeat myself? It's not like I'm getting paid for this…

Onward.

* * *

Chapter 6: Feeling, Sweet Feeling

Haruka _had_ told him that someone was coming to pick them up, someone they knew and could trust with their lives at need.

What she hadn't told him was who it would be; the man's arrival spoke for itself.

'_Son of a--!_' "Please don't tell me _he's _gonna be driving!" Keitaro groaned, holding his head in dismay. Granted, the _kanrinin_ wasn't the very best of drivers himself, but in comparison with the infamous Tokyo University Professor of Archaeology Noriyasu Seta, however, _anyone_ was better behind the wheel, at least normally speaking.

Haruka cringed to herself. '_He isn't going to make this easy on me, is he?' _she thought privately. "He _can _drive safely, Keitaro," she reassured him before muttering, "provided his _life _depends on it, _which it will in a moment…_"

The door of the van opened, and Seta emerged with an umbrella, hunched over in the rain. Coming around under the awning quickly, he addressed Haruka first. "Sorry I'm a little late! Traffic was terrible with all this rain. I ended up taking a shortcut. Turns out they were in the middle of road work! Imagine that, and in _this _weather no less! Ah, well. Good to see you again, Haruka-chan! Miss me much?"

Mitsune watched Haruka's expression with interest, as it subtly changed from an indignant glare to an embarrassed ghost of a smile, before returning to neutral again in a flash. She had to suppress a snicker; the older woman hid her emotions well, but not perfectly so.

"Glad you could make it in one piece, Seta," Haruka responded finally. "Hopefully, you can keep all four wheels on the _ground _and not in the _air_ for a while, since you'll be taking two people with you when you go."

Seta looked at her sheepishly. "Well…I can try, I guess."

She glared at him with the promise of hell in her eyes.

"Alright, alright, I won't drive over 80 miles an hour," he promised. The glare continued. Sighing, he relented further. "Alright, 70, and I'll be more careful. It'll be a longer trip, though, just warning you."

Her glare softened, and disappeared. "That doesn't matter. The need for haste was in you physically getting here; from here out, if you're lucky you'll have quite some time yet before you have to drive like a maniac again." More quietly, she added, "In fact, you'll be better off if you don't speed at all for now. The less attention you can draw, the more time they'll have to recuperate."

"Yeah, I get what you mean." Seta said in a lower tone of voice, a flash of seriousness crossing his expression that lasted barely a moment, though only Haruka noticed it. As quickly as it had appeared, it vanished, and Seta shifted his attention next to his passengers-to-be. "Good to see you again, Keitaro. Been busy showing off, I hear?" he teased good-naturedly.

The younger Urashima nodded from under his raingear in somewhat embarrassed agreement. "Yeah, well…sort of. Mostly just helping a few people that needed it, though everyone seems to think I've been a little _too_ busy trying to keep up with it all."

"So I see!" the archaeologist remarked, looking him over in the dim light of the rainy afternoon. "Last time I looked like that, I had to put off an expedition and take a week off for down time! Still ended up being a busy week, but not in the same sense at any rate," he said, ignoring the look Haruka was currently giving him but wisely changing the subject. "Anyway, Haruka tells me you could use some downtime yourself."

Keitaro nodded. "I guess so. If it's any trouble, I'd be happy to repay you if I can, or assist you later if you want."

"Nonsense! Favor's on me, don't worry about it. Least I can do for a friend, right? Speaking of which," Seta turned to look at Keitaro's companion, who until that point had remained silent and half-hidden under her rain jacket's hood, "unless I'm thoroughly mistaken, there's been someone you've been a bit busy with yourself that's coming along as well?"

Keitaro colored slightly, but Mitsune looked up and beamed a grin out from under her own gear at the archaeologist. "Hiya, Seta!" she said.

His jaw dropped low, and his head went back and forth as he looked from one to the other in disbelief. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Nope!" the couple said together, laughing together at his expression.

"Wow. Guess that means we both owe Hina fifty thousand Yen, huh Haruka?" Seta moaned in disbelief. Haruka snorted to herself; she hadn't been the only one to lose that bet! Keitaro just tilted his head in confusion.

"Anyway, if you kids are ready, toss your bags in the trunk and get in the back seats; I'm afraid I have to use the front seat to hold something else at the moment," Seta recovered and instructed them. After the two had loaded up and climbed aboard, he walked over to Haruka, who now stood just out of sight of the vehicle's back windows.

"Where should I take them, anyway?" he asked her quietly. "It can't be anywhere public or well-known, you know. Too damn risky at this point."

She leaned over and whispered the destination in his ear, not wanting to be overheard by _anyone_. "And watch out for any tails; hopefully, you won't get anyone following you yet, but be careful! You know what they're like."

"I will be," he replied softly. "Will you be okay from here? You'd better not hang out too long yourself; once they figure out who it is, this'll be the first place they look."

"I'll be fine," Haruka assured him. "I'm not sticking around for long after this, an hour or so if I can get them ready without too much fuss."

He smiled. "Good to know I've got the easy job, then."

She rolled her eyes at him. "You can only imagine. Still, with any luck we'll be gone before they get here, and so will everyone else. I've already sent word ahead of us."

"Good, that's good," Seta nodded. "Be careful out there, and don't get caught, okay? If what you said is right, we're pushing our luck here as it is."

"If they don't know by now, they will. Keitaro was lucky enough not to announce his name to anyone, but there _were _dozens that could see what he did yesterday, and it won't be long before word reaches the wrong ears if it hasn't already. And Seta?"

"Yeah?"

"Keep in mind that he doesn't know any of this yet. _She _suspects more than he does, but they're both in the dark right now. Keep it that way and let them both rest as long as you can. If you're lucky, you should have a few days to work with, though after that point I wouldn't stay in one place very long."

"Got it. What about…" he nodded toward his van, or rather toward something in it.

"Wait until you tell them the rest, and don't show them any of it before that."

"Alright. I brought enough supplies to last at least three or four days as well; it helps to frequently travel when you need to be prepared," he said proudly.

"Good. If I get the chance, I'll send you a signal in a few days time to get moving. Don't call me or anyone else from this point on, got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded respectfully. He began to turn back toward his van.

"And Seta?" she said, holding him back for a moment longer.

"Yeah?"

She kissed him full on the lips, surprising him (though only a little). Moments later, she broke contact. "Don't forget to come back alive and in one piece, or I'll hunt you down myself." He nodded numbly.

A moment later, Haruka watched them leave. For once, Seta drove close to reasonably, or at least close enough. The van soon vanished into the continuing downpour.

Turning away finally, she made her way quickly back up toward the inn, carrying a heavy bag of her own she'd prepared earlier. There was still much to do tonight.

**********

"Here; I figured you two might be hungry," Seta commented casually as he handed a large lunch sack toward the back seat from the front. "It's going to be a long trip, so help yourself."

"Thanks, Seta. We haven't had dinner yet, actually," Mitsune said, accepting the pack gratefully. They'd been on the road only about fifteen minutes, and were already headed into quiet and unfamiliar territory as far as she could tell. Even though it was still early in the evening, the traffic had gone from regular to practically nonexistent around them, though it was hard to see much in the heavy rain. She nudged Keitaro, who was already beginning to doze off a bit. "Hey. Are you hungry, Kei-kun?" she asked.

"Yeah, actually, a bit," he said, registering the container in her lap. Opening it, they found a small assortment of snacks, sodas, and fruit; light fare to be sure, but nothing to get picky over, either. "Hope you like it," Seta commented cheerfully over his shoulder.

"Yeah, thanks!" Keitaro replied gratefully. As they ate together, practically alone and without fear, Keitaro felt himself slowly begin to relax. The difference seemed astounding to his mind; though he'd been initially worried about Seta being behind the wheel, Haruka had indeed managed to get the man on his best behavior, and the trip was going relatively smoothly. The further from the Hina-Sou they went, the less pressure he felt like he was under as well; he was only now beginning to realize just how great a burden it had been on him. He'd been afraid and ashamed, at least initially, of abandoning his duties for any extended period of time; not only did he face further injury for it, but he faced his own sense of responsibility and guilt for doing so in the first place. Ironically, though he forgave others as readily as he breathed air, forgiving _himself_ was never an easy thing for him to do.

"This is really nice of you to do this for us, Seta-san," Keitaro said a few minutes later. "I mean, I know you're pretty busy with your work a lot and all. I really hate having to be a burden like this."

"Ah, don't worry about it. I'm actually in a bit of a lull, for once. I'm not planning on going on another trip for a couple months yet, and since classes aren't in session at the moment things have been pretty boring lately! Besides, there's no sense in leaving a friend hanging when I can do something about it, right? Especially one I can relate to."

"Heh, yeah, I know the feeling." Keitaro mused on this to himself. He and Seta really weren't that different, when it came down to it. Sure, Seta was years older, smoked almost as much as Haruka did, and was highly skilled in his profession, but they both shared that combination of reckless selflessness and two left feet, especially around women. And while many people knew of Seta's martial arts expertise, few realized either the true extent of its development or the extent to which he used it. Keitaro was one of only a few people that did, and one of fewer still that knew how Seta managed to create the illusion of near-invulnerability to injury. Though Keitaro was arguably better at the healing techniques by virtue of near-daily practice, Seta was not too far behind.

"So, do you know where we're going? Haruka was pretty tight-lipped about it to me," Mitsune chimed in.

"We are headed for a nice spot in the middle of nowhere!" Seta explained with all due bravado in his tone. "I've been there once or twice with Haruka, but don't tell anyone I said that or she'll kill me. It'll take us a while to get there; actually, it wouldn't be quite so long, but I'm going a bit slowly by request."

Keitaro glanced at Seta's speedometer, which was holding steady at about 72 miles and hour. Though the road seemed pretty open, he was pretty sure the speed limit was about ten or fifteen less. '_Better than thirty over, I suppose._'

"Where is it?" Mitsune asked.

"It's in this country, but nowhere near civilization at any rate. It's kind of remote. Quite cozy, though; a good hideout when you need to get away from things for awhile."

"Does it have a name?" Keitaro inquired.

"Not really. Well, not anymore I suppose," Seta replied with a chuckle. "Probably did once, but I never did manage to find out what."

'_Definitely sounds like somewhere in the middle of nowhere to me,_' Mitsune thought privately to herself. Normally, she would think a hotel would suffice; whatever it was that Haruka had been so adamant about in sending them off in secret like this, she seemed quite serious about them _not _being found for a while. Thinking of Keitaro, she decided it would be better not to bring it up just yet; she didn't want him worrying about anything he didn't have to if she could help it!

Still, there was _one _thing she was curious about: an oblong, carefully wrapped, and fairly large box strapped into the front passenger seat. "Hey, Seta? Whatcha got in that box?"

"Oh, uhh…a few things. Work-related, most of them. Maybe I'll show them to you a few days from now, after we've settled in a bit." Seta seemed reluctant to say more.

"Oh, okay," she responded, a little disappointed. Seta, it seemed, was always knee-deep in something big, strange, or dangerous when it came to his work. Much of the time, he was both willing and eager to describe something he was working on or had found, but not always. Generally speaking, though, if he was reluctant to talk about something, you generally didn't want to find out the reason for it!

Keitaro, meanwhile, was feeling less and less able to stay awake. Between the meal, the rhythmic motion of the car along the road, and his current state, he felt consciousness slowly beginning to slip away from him.

Kitsune took notice of this a moment later. Whether by virtue of having nothing else to do or by physical state of being, she began to realize that she, too, felt tired. True to form, the realization gave her a pleasant idea. "Well, Kei-kun, looks like it's gonna be a long one," she said to him. "I think you should probably get some shuteye on the way, what do you think?"

"That…sounds like a good idea, actually," he said with a yawn. "I guess I'll just…take a nap on the way." As he was sitting in the right corner seat, he shifted a bit such that he could rest against the nook comfortably at a slight lean.

To his mild surprise, Kitsune shifted with him, turning and sliding in her seat until she was almost facing him to lie into the side of his chest, her head resting just under his right shoulder. Before he could think to ask what she was doing, she explained, "I think I'll join you, then, if you don't mind."

Though still somewhat taken aback by her boldness, he wasn't about to argue with it. "No, not if you don't," he replied quietly, gently shifting to allow them both to wrap their arms around one another in their current positions.

She smiled and let her head loll into his chest even further, enjoying the comforting warmth it radiated under his shirt. She kissed the part of his shoulder her lips could reach, and quietly said "G'night, Kei-kun…"

Whether by accident or design, his return kiss landed on the exposed nape of her neck, sending an almost electric sensation down much of her left side on contact. She heard him say, "G'night, Kitsu-chan…" before his breathing slowed into the steady rhythm of rest.

Resisting the urge to gasp, she thought to herself, '_Either he got incredibly lucky, or he's more of a natural at this than I thought!_' Though experience told her the odds favored the former possibility, her instinct was screaming in favor of the latter. '_Well, this is definitely going to be time well-spent with him either way,_' she thought to herself as she tried to ignore the ticklishly pleasant sensations of his breath flowing near and across her neck. Within a few minutes, she had finally drifted off to sleep as well.

Seta just chuckled quietly to himself and shook his head, watching the pair in his rear view mirror out the corner of his eye as they cuddled and slept. '_There goes my fifty thousand,_' he thought to himself as he drove on, '_though I can't say I begrudge them a single Yen of it._'

**********

Four and a half hours later, the van finally arrived at its destination. The rain had all but ceased by then, though it was replaced by patches of dense fog and light mist. The road itself was ancient, paved with flat stones for several miles along a mostly forgotten path into the thick of long-untouched wilderness. The area was somewhat elevated and mountainous, the air somewhat chilly for that time of year due to the weather and terrain. In the daytime, in better weather, the place the van pulled in front of could be called beautiful; a large, ancient-looking and well-made structure set alongside the apex of a small cliff overlooking a waterfall that fed a clear, swift, shallow river below. A forest teeming with life surrounded the place, nearly hiding it completely from the road until it practically ended in front of it.

'_Of course, it looks more like the Feudal Villa That Time Forgot right now,_' Seta thought amusedly to himself as he pulled in between what might have once been an ancient set of gates in the remnants of a surrounding perimeter wall. Parking in a convenient nook around the right side, he set about waking his still-slumbering pair of passengers. "Well, we're here!" he announced, popping open his door and hitting a button to unlock the others as he got out.

Keitaro blinked his eyes open and yawned, his brain taking a long moment to regain its bearings. He noticed Kitsune first, almost jumping in surprise but remembering why she was there just in time. He registered the van seat next, and the fact that the vehicle had come to a stop. Finally, he registered the change in scenery outside from the dim obscurity of pouring rain to the darker, mist-laden groves of trees and bamboo beyond the van's window. The clouds overhead had thinned and broken, allowing bright moonlight to illuminate the patchy fog near the earth instead. From his angle, he could see the side of the ancient building rising on the other side of the parked van like a shadow of a forgotten era.

'_What…is this place?_' he wondered to himself, as Mitsune began to wake up on top of him. "Are we there yet?" she asked him sleepily, her eyes slowly opening.

"I…I think so," he said with a yawn. "Not exactly sure _where_, though."

She sat up slowly, stretching and looking around. "Hmmm…maybe its not so much _where _as it is _when?_" she joked. "Maybe Seta's got some sort of time machine in the glove compartment."

"No, but I do have a submersible conversion device under the dash," Seta's voice replied from behind them. Turning, they saw him unloading the back of the van through its double-door back hatch. "Don't worry, this place only _looks _that old on the outside and has every right to do so: it's looked like that for about four or five hundred years, after all!"

Keitaro's eyebrows went up. "You mean this place was made in feudal times?"

Seta laughed. "Nah, that's just when it started looking old!"

Moments later, they had gathered their bags from the back and started up what was left of an ancient stone walkway to the front entrance. "Does anyone actually _live _here anymore?" Mitsune asked.

"On occasion. It's been in my family for a long time, actually. I still use it once in a while; believe it or not, it makes a decent hideout or vacation spot when I need to get away from the world for awhile." Seta fumbled in his pocket a moment before producing a large, ancient-looking key. Fitting it in a large iron lock on the almost gate-sized doorway, he turned the mechanism with noticeable effort. "There we are! Come on, let's get some of this stuff inside, shall we?"

It was almost pitch-black beyond the threshold at first, and Seta went in before them. Finding a switch on the nearest wall, he switched on a set of about a dozen flickering old ceiling-hung electric lights. If the outside told of the structure's ancient beginning, the inside told of its story ever since. Parts of the ancient structure looked like they had been partially remodeled several times by people of widely separated time periods; beautifully painted rice-paper walls and decades-old electrical work ran side-by-side past a mixture of furnishings ranging from just a few to a few hundred years old. It was quite large inside; though essentially a one-story building, it had nearly as many rooms with a greater variety of purposes as the whole of the Hina-Sou. Seta showed them each briefly; aside from the standard rooms of any home, it had a small _dojo_, several storage rooms full of artifacts and other things, a well-equipped armory (its contents both original to the time it was made and added to over the years), and even a utility room complete with both household and archaeological tools.

"This place is incredible! It's really something else, professor." Keitaro said a moment later as he took it all in.

Seta grinned in pride. "Yep. This is my home away from home, as old as the stuff I work on and home to a lot of it as well. I haven't been here in about…two years now, I think. At any rate, I believe there's a bedroom or two at the end of that hall that should suit your needs well enough; mine's at this end, so don't use that one. Go ahead and get yourselves settled in; I've got some supplies to bring in from my van."

"Need any help?" Keitaro offered.

"Nope! It's just some food and a few odds and ends, I'll be fine."

"Thank you, Seta-san," Keitaro replied with a light bow.

"This is really nice of you to bring us here, Seta," Kitsune added, doing the same.

"Not a problem, kids. Go on, I'll see you in a few minutes." the older man replied casually over his shoulder as he went back outside.

As his two guests went to pick their rooms and unpack for the night, Seta took the opportunity to quickly scan over the surrounding area. No one was around for miles normally, and they'd been very fortunate that no one had been on the road with them for miles more. Still, he had to be as sure as possible.

Much as Keitaro had done the previous day, Seta stretched out with his _ki_, feeling for the touch of anything that wasn't supposed to be there, of anyone nearby. It wasn't an entirely foolproof method, he knew, but it was by far better than what his eyes and ears could tell him. As far as he could sense, they were alone.

From where he stood, he could easily sense his guests, feeling the flickers of their emotions and intents as they went about their own tasks. Like a _ki_-driven echolocation or sonar, he could practically sense where they were in the physical sense and how they were feeling emotionally. He took a moment to examine them both, to see what Haruka had seen in Keitaro. Were matters different, he might have asked their permission before performing such an examination, as their _ki _reflected a significant part of their beings. But for his own sake and that of others, he had to know something for sure, and he wouldn't get the chance to make the comparison again very easily.

A moment later, he'd seen enough. '_So that's what they meant,_' he thought to himself, as he considered the sheer magnitude of what he'd just discerned. '_And to think: he's not even running at full steam yet! When he gets rest and they've spent some solid time together…_'

Shaking his head to clear it, he returned to the task at hand. He hadn't doubted Haruka, but with so much at stake it helped him to know for certain she had been right.

It also meant he would be taking a lot more than groceries inside with him.

He started with the awkward package in the front seat of his van. It was large and quite heavy, though he had little trouble handling it himself. When the time was right, he wouldn't be carrying it around anymore anyway, and _that _would be a relief in more than one way.

He brought the bundled box inside, quickly checking to make sure that both Keitaro and Kitsune were still occupied with their rooms. Quietly, he took it into the armory and opened a secret panel behind a displayed suit of samurai. Dropping it inside the nearly empty compartment it concealed as quietly as he could and shutting it again, he secured a hidden latch to keep it from opening. Moving to the other side of the room, he opened a similar hatch, this one revealing a much better stocked compartment. He briefly examined what he saw, and frowned. '_Hmmm, that's what I figured: all the hardware's here and ready, but there's not enough filling to work with._' Closing it, he went back to his van and got several stacks of small but very heavy boxes, about five of each kind. Ten to fifteen more of each type were left, but he'd need them more where they were later. Returning with the heavy load, he carefully opened each one and added their contents to the empty sections of the second compartment. '_Best to be prepared inside and out, especially now,_' he thought to himself as he worked. Satisfied, he closed and latched the compartment and threw out the empty boxes.

Only after he was finished with them did he dare to light a fresh smoke for himself.

By the time Keitaro and Mitsune had re-emerged from their rooms, Seta was carrying in the last of a fair amount of food he'd brought for the duration of their stay. It was getting late, but since they had slept for a fair part of the trip they weren't quite as tired as before, so they had a small dinner together and conversed casually. Seta told them about a few of his latest expeditions (including the numerous scrapes he'd gotten himself into along the way, much to the amusement of all), and Mitsune told him about how she and Keitaro had managed to get together. Seta chuckled good-naturedly at the many shades of red the young _ronin_ turned as his new sweetheart described (with glowing detail) all that he'd done in just the past few days. As they spoke, the archaeologist began to understand a bit better why Haruka had been so insistent that he get as much of a break as possible; considering how much he'd done in such a short span of time, he had every right to be half-dead from exhaustion!

Finally, they decided to turn in for the night an hour later. After Seta had gone into his own room, Mitsune embraced Keitaro outside hers. Pulling away, she whispered to him, "Thank you for agreeing to do this, Kei. I know it's hard on you to skip out on everyone like that, but…I really think you need this break. _We _need this break."

"Yeah…I know," the _kanrinin_ admitted. "It _does _feel good to not have to worry about it all for a while. Still…I mean, I know I'll be better off in the long run doing this and all, but…I don't know. I still don't feel right about leaving everyone behind like that, just sneaking off without saying a word to anyone. It just feels like I'm being selfish, somehow."

She kissed him lightly. "Take it from me: you've gotta be selfish once in a while, or there won't be anything left of yourself to give to anyone at all. And yeah, I know it's not good to be selfish _all _the time, either, but…when you think of it, that's just how everyone's been acting toward _you_ for a long time, now. That includes me, too."

"Yeah, but…"

"You've spent a long time keeping everyone safe, happy, and well taken care of, and you've been put through _way_ too much crap for it already," she insisted. "As long as we're here, your job is to rest, relax, and have some fun for a change." She smiled playfully at him and winked. "And mine is to make _sure_ that you enjoy yourself, in any way I can. And I don't do that for just anyone, you know. "

Keitaro drew her into a tight, earnest hug suddenly, surprising her. "Thank you," he whispered gratefully in her ear. "It…really means a lot to me…"

She smiled again, returning his embrace. For what seemed like forever, they stood there in each other's arms, neither willing to let it end. Their contact broke only when, about a minute after they had begun, they heard a tremendous crash come from within Seta's room. Startled from their reverie, they rushed to the other end of the hallway and opened his door. "Are you all right? We heard something crash…Seta? Where are you?" Keitaro said first as it opened, looking for the man in question.

"Yyyhhh, mmm rrkky, mmm dwwwn hrrr," came Seta's muffled voice at their feet. Looking down, they saw him sprawled and half-buried in partially folded clothing with a drawer on his head, about halfway across the room from the dresser said drawer had come from. "Dmmn thng wzz stkk."

They both burst out laughing. As Seta removed the large drawer from his head and spat out a stray sock, they helped him to his feet and helped gather the scattered contents before leaving again.

At last, everyone had made it back to their respective rooms and had settled in for the night. The beds were large, and the night was somewhat chillier than they were used to, but the place was quiet and serene; with no sounds but the muffled music of water and nature outside to disturb them, they all soon fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

* * *

A.N.: It's funny to me, in writing, how ideas lead into and out of each other. A lot and not much happening this time around, yet already the seeds of great things are being sown liberally. Next chapter or two will follow these three, as Keitaro gets his *ahem* rest with Kitsune, and Seta prepares for impending peril. I'll get back to the others briefly after that, and cut to the chase (literally) thereafter.

In light of the strong positive response about the shotgun I've received from reviewers, I feel the need to give you an update. I like the look of the AA-12 and USAS 12, but I'm definitely going more for something that still _looks _like a shotgun. Hence, I think the choice is now between one of the Remingtons (870 or 1100) and one of the Benelli's (I was originally thinking M3 Super 90, but the Supernova also caught my eye; I didn't like the look of the stock on the M4, though). It's got to do with the _presence _of the weapon itself, not just its rate of fire. It's just gotta say "boomstick" at a glance, the sort of thing that you see someone cock it and look at you, and you think: "Holy shit, I'm fucked." I might use the automatics later, though, depending on how things go.

Anyway, thanks to Jimi Hendrix for title inspiration, and to _Marathon: Infinity_ for the next…


	7. Ch7: DREAMS

Disclaimer: So a guy walks into a bar, and he says, "Ow."

I don't own that joke, and I don't own Love Hina. I _do_ own just about everybody when playing Halo 3. So…don't play against me, or I'll own you, too. Onward, before I sprain my funny bone…

* * *

Chapter 7: Desire, Remorse, Empathy, Angst, Maladroit, Succor

_Perhaps he had forgotten to be afraid. Or had he forgotten fear itself?_

_ He knew he should be terrified, but wasn't terrified; there was danger, no danger now, no idea what the danger was, where it was._

_ Where was he? He was supposed to be here, knew where here was, but didn't know where he was, couldn't see, didn't need to see. _

_ His fingers were sticky, didn't feel sticky; there was blood on his hands, not his blood, not by his hands. Who was in his arms? He knew her, didn't know who she was, couldn't see her. She was alive and not well, had a bleeding wound; would she bleed to death? It was not severe, but bled severely. He knew all this, but didn't know what it was, or where or why or how. Just knew that he did. _

_ He had a chance, a small chance. He wanted to try, didn't know what; he had to try. Was there another way? There was none; he wished there was._

_ A hand was on her wound. His hand, not his hand. Her mouth opened, screaming— _

"**Gyeeeah**!" Keitaro woke with a start and a cry, covered in his own sweat. Morning light nearly blinded him.

A dream? He'd been dreaming. Where was he? He tried to get his bearings. The light poured through the window of an unfamiliar room over his bed. He blinked; not unfamiliar, just not his own. Of course; he was in a guest room. What was the time? He couldn't find a clock. He checked his watch: it was nearly ten a.m. already.

The dream he'd had came back to him. It disturbed him; it had been…real, yet unreal. He'd felt like he was in it, yet not in himself entirely; it was like he was seeing himself through his own eyes, but could only sense what he was feeling in an abstract way. Every time he tried to remember anything beyond the immediate, nothing came up in explanation.

He shook his head, trying to clear out the cobwebs of sleepiness. '_Too strange to even think about right now,_' he stomach growled; he was hungry. Thoughts of breakfast quickly drove the dream from his mind entirely.

Standing up and stretching, he took stock of how he felt. '_After all,_'he reasoned to himself, '_I'd be pretty negligent to ignore the main reason I'm supposed to be here._' So far, the trip seemed to be doing him some good already: he ached in far fewer places than he had the day previous, felt a hundred times more awake (aside from feeling the need for a cup of coffee), and wasn't nearly as tense as he'd felt for the past week, if not the past few months. He still felt a bit stiff, but he figured that was mostly due to the long ride and sleeping in an unfamiliar bed.

In short, he felt pretty good. Maybe not great, but a hell of a lot better.

Satisfied, he next realized his urge to answer nature's call. He left the bedroom, intent on finding out if one of the building's previous owners had upgraded to indoor plumbing anytime in the last century. Unexpectedly, he felt his body tense as though to react to an incoming threat; when none came, he realized suddenly that he was instinctually preparing for the impact of Kaolla Su's foot, which had regularly flown at his head almost every morning that year. But he wasn't in the Hina-Sou right now; the only thing in the usual direction of Su's daily ambush was a wall. He sighed in relief, confounded once more by just how long and how much he'd been on edge just living there. He was oddly glad that his only worry this morning was whether the porcelain was set up indoors or out!

Five minutes and a flush later, he felt quite relieved to not have to worry about that, either.

Padding down the hallway, Keitaro's mind quickly returned to food; like moths to a flame, his feet took him in the direction of what could be loosely considered a kitchen and a dining room. The former was little more than a room with an ancient fire pit equipped with equally old cooking pots of unusually large size, designed for making large stews and cooking large game more than anything; the surrounding areas were fitted with a minimum of more modern appliances and surfaces, most notably a refrigerator, small stove, sink, and a coffee maker. Like much of the rest of the building, it made for an almost absurd contrast that somehow still worked. The latter room, on the other hand, was much closer in its furnishing to what he imagined had been the original layout. Set up like a small meeting chamber, the table was set barely inches off the ground, and what sparse furnishings there were looked like they predated much of what he'd seen in museums.

Here, the only bit of modern flair he could find was currently lying sideways, casually propped up on one elbow and wearing short nightwear that (just barely) fit the terms of modesty. A partially eaten breakfast and cup of hot coffee was set before her still-sleepy face.

"Morning, Kei-kun!" she brightened up and greeted him when she saw him come in. "How ya feelin'?"

"A bit stiff, and like I need a cup of coffee, but otherwise a lot better," he said with a bit of a chuckle. "Although, come to think of it, I wish I'd packed something a bit warmer than I did. It's kind of chilly around here for this time of year!"

She looked up at him with a grin. "I noticed! But that's great to hear, Kei. You look a lot better this morning, too," she added, regarding his appearance. Indeed, the _kanrinin _looked significantly less weary; the circles under his eyes were starting to fade, and his skin seemed a little less pale than it had. More importantly, the warm smile he had only occasionally worn on his face was now becoming something of a more permanent feature in his expression.

One thing quite literally stood out of place, however. It stood out in about six or seven different directions at once. An impish smirk grew on her face. "Hmmm…you know, though, I never realized the cold could make your hair stand on end _that _much."

A confused expression crossed his face, and his hand reached up to scratch his own head. As it did, it stopped when it encountered first one clump of hair poking in an odd direction, then another. She struggled to keep a straight face, though his expression wasn't making it very easy on her at all! Suddenly, he frowned, one hand slapping his face in dramatic exasperation as his shoulders slumped. "Dangit! I _knew _there was something missing in my pack!" he exclaimed.

"Huh? What's that?" she asked, surprised both by the abrupt shift in his expression and by the implication of his statement.

"My comb! I forgot that I left it in my other suitcase!" he moaned, a note of dejected despair in his voice matching his expression.

"What??" she said in disbelief, glancing away in growing confusion. "That's impossible! I could've sworn I saw you pack one with your toothbrush and shaving—"

Something in her mind stopped her. '_What other suitcase? I though he didn't have a—_'

She looked at his face again. Sure enough, a grin was slowly growing on his lips.

"Are you…you're pulling my leg, aren't you! Heck, scratch that," she said, beginning to actually laugh in surprise and even a little joy, "_you _were kidding _me!_ You! Of all people, you were actually kidding me for a change!" she proclaimed aloud to no one in particular but the two of them and the invisible record of precedents, sounding as surprised as she felt that such a thing had actually occurred in her lifetime.

He blinked, as if suddenly realizing what he'd been doing himself. "I guess I was, wasn't I?" he said with a laugh, only half believing it himself. Frowning, he noted, "Guess I'm either dead already or have a death wish, but…it's kind of fun to do that once in a while."

She snickered, and grinned evilly. "It is, isn't it? But be warned, Kei-kun: he who teases a Fox must be prepared for a Fox to tease him back!"

He sighed. "Figures. I guess I'd better eat some breakfast, then. Wouldn't want to play with fire on an empty stomach, right?"

She smiled at him. "Fires need fuel, and I've got mine already. Grab your cereal and java before I start pulling _your _leg, ya goof-ass!"

As he left for the kitchen once again, Mitsune couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness. Sleepy or not, he already looked a _thousand_ times better than he had the day before; hell, he even _sounded_ better to her. The difference of one, full peaceful night's sleep without threat of labor and injury on his entire being had been profound. She doubted he was fully up to snuff just yet, but by the looks of things he'd get there sooner than she'd thought he would.

Observing him as his condition improved before her eyes was astounding as well. She was already beginning to see an playful, impish streak in his demeanor coming out, a facet of his personality long restrained and buried (probably for his own safety, she thought). It was strange; every day, she learned something about him that she hadn't realized before, that none of them had really thought to look for. Piece by piece, they added something to who he was to her mind's eye; as they did, they made her realize all the more how much of himself he'd had to hold back, to conceal, or to let go of in order to survive in the company of his tenants.

Another part of her mind was quickly adding up just how much she _liked _about what she was discovering about him. She'd liked him before, of course, but the extent of her feelings had grown far more than she had imagined in the past five days. Now, a part of her mind was beginning to imagine what they might be able to get up to, practically on their own out in the middle of nowhere, with plenty of time on their hands to work with…and plenty of time to work with their hands…

"Kitsune?" she heard Keitaro asking her, startling her out of her daydream. "You okay there?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine," she said quickly, trying not to flush. "Just…spacing out a bit."

"Ah, okay," he said, taking his seat next to her with his breakfast. Whatever else he was, Mitsune realized, Keitaro was still as oblivious as ever about certain things. Luckily.

Drawing herself into a more upright seated position, she scooted subtly closer to him and returned her focus on her breakfast. They ate in silence for a few minutes, both a little lost in their own thoughts, until Keitaro's head cocked to one side. "I wonder where Seta is?" he pondered aloud.

"Uhh, I think he got up earlier than I did," Mitsune replied. "He's around here somewhere; I saw him about half an hour ago, I think. You slept later than I did, and I sleep in pretty late normally, so…" She shrugged.

"Figures," Keitaro sighed and chuckled. "I guess I'm not used to sleeping in late normally."

"Or very much at all, for that matter," Mitsune giggled to herself and nuzzled against him gently. "I know what you mean, Kei. But then, if you _did _sleep in later normally, we'd probably never have gotten such a great excuse to sneak off to parts unknown together, now could we?"

He chuckled, a bit bashfully. "I can see your point, there."

As they continued to work on their breakfast, Kitsune noticed a cloud over his expression, like he was thinking (or more accurately worrying) over something. '_Oh, no you don't!_' she thought to herself, '_you're not gonna worry about something on __**my **__watch and get away with it!_' "Something bugging you?" she probed.

"What?" he responded distractedly.

"You had a look on your face like you were rolling something around between your ears."

"Eh, just puzzling over a weird dream I had before I woke up." he admitted.

"What sort of dream?" she prompted him to speak further.

He hesitated, not sure how to describe the experience. "I'm not…really all that sure. The dream itself was...dark. I mean, physically and thematically. I couldn't see much of where I was or what I was doing, but I knew I had someone in my arms that was badly hurt, bleeding even. It was pretty vivid in a lot of ways, and I kept having thoughts and feelings about the situation that made no sense. Every time I tried to think of what was going on, or who I was holding, or what either of us were doing there, I couldn't physically come up with anything, not even a supposition. It was like I wasn't in control of what I was thinking, but I could still feel the thoughts as they came to me. It was like I was watching myself think, rather than thinking myself.

Mitsune blinked. "That's weird. Any idea who it was? Male or female, even?"

Keitaro frowned. "Female, I think. Can't say who it was, though. I couldn't see, and wasn't thinking of any names at the time. All I know is that whatever had happened, I could do something about it. As to what…I don't know. I woke up right afterwards."

If Mitsune had been superstitious, she supposed it might have made her uneasy to hear a strange rendition like that; as it was, however, she wasn't about to let it get to her, or get to him. "Sounds pretty weird, Keitaro. But dreams are usually like that, you know. I wouldn't worry about it."

"Yeah, I know…I guess it's just my brain's response to what's been happening lately, like it's trying to unscramble itself and figure out how the heck I ended up running off into the middle of nowhere in the willing company of a gorgeous girl."

She grinned, then whispered in his ear, "Maybe it's trying to tell you that you need to stick with her more, and maybe…keep her company at night?"

Surprised, he stammered, "U-um, well…maybe, I mean, I guess I never thought of it like that…I mean, I'd like that, but…umm…"

She grinned at him. "You are now, though, aren't you?" she told him, and his face went scarlet. She burst out giggling. "Oh Kei, you are just soooo easy to tease! I love it!" She gave him a sideways hug, still snickering. Before he could get upset, she leaned over and whispered into his ear, "You know, if some handsome, big-hearted young gentleman you and I know were to offer me some company, I wouldn't turn him down."

She watched the process of his thinking play out on his face up close: slight confusion, then relief, followed by even more embarrassed surprise, ending with a new, deeper shade of red than before. She grinned even wider, and proceeded to kiss him before he could respond.

A minute later, when they'd finally broken contact again, she said, "Think about it, and let me know." Gathering the remains of her breakfast, she went toward the kitchen, Keitaro's stunned expression following her as she went. When she had moved out of sight, she fist-pumped to herself. '_Oh, yeah! Got it in spades and then some! Score one for the Fox!_' she thought to herself. Truthfully, she had wanted to make that offer last night, after enjoying his company during their ride to…wherever this place was. She'd let him think about it, though; she enjoyed their closeness, but she wasn't about to push him too hard if she could help it. She'd take a step back, and wait for him to follow if he was willing, and ready, to do so.

She had a distinct feeling he wouldn't refuse, either.

**********

After breakfast, Keitaro dressed himself and went in search of their host. He soon found Seta in his armory examining and lightly polishing the blade of a relatively ornate-looking _katana_ with great care. Without even looking up from his work, the man greeted him cheerfully. "Good morning, Keitaro-san! Feeling better today, I hope?"

"Yes, very much so, thank you," Keitaro replied in kind with a respectful nod. His attention was drawn to the contents of the room, much of which might have interested Motoko: samurai armor, swords, spears, and other weaponry filled the room on displays every bit as old as the equipment itself. Some looked to be of foreign origin, though most was clearly Japanese. "This is quite a collection," he noted aloud. "I never knew you were this into old swords and such, Seta."

Seta grinned, and replied offhandedly, "Ah, but then you never thought to ask, eh?"

"Heh, I guess not."

Seta scratched his chin. "Weapons and armor like these give a great deal of insight into the times in which they were made. A sword such as this could take months to create from start to finish, sometimes years, and it isn't the finest example of the art even then. Yet unlike so much that has long crumbled into rust and ruin from so long ago, it remains today much as it did when it was first made, in pristine condition and still very, _very _sharp."

Keitaro examined the blade more closely. The handle and sheath were well-preserved, the wood stained a deep, blood-red color and bound with intricately woven silk rope. A number of intricate designs were etched into the sheath, colored in deep black ink and spelling out the work of a fine hand. The blade itself was flawless, its surface polished and reflective; near the curved edge ran a unique design outlined by the two-toned silver-white coloration of the metal itself.

"I've always been curious: how they make the pattern along the blade like that?" he asked, pointing to the tonal boundary line on the surface.

"The swordsmith designs the pattern, and forms it in the blade itself at the same time that he sets the blade's curvature. You see, to make one of these blades properly you need _two _pieces of iron. One piece forms the outer edge; it is made of a high-carbon steel that has been folded and re-folded onto itself many times. The second piece is a low-carbon steel, and forms the core around which the first is eventually wrapped. The difference between the two is what gives the blade its characteristic strength and sharpness: the outer layer, the hard steel, holds a far better edge, but without the softer, more flexible steel at the core to absorb impacts against the blade it would soon break. The combination of the two draws on the strengths of both, and eliminates the weaknesses by design. Toward the final stages of its forging, the blade is cooled completely, and the surface is coated with a protective mixture of clays and other materials in a pattern that will appear on the final blade. When the blade is reheated, and then cooled quickly, the metal changes its crystalline molecular arrangement differently in each of the two pieces of steel. The curve results from the core contracting faster than the edge on cooling, which bends the overall shape like a bow being strung. At the same time, the design on the edge heats and cools at a slightly different temperature due to the coating on the surface, and thus forms a permanent, visible difference seen on the surface."

"Huh. I never knew it was that complicated."

"It is! But the product is well worth every detail of the process. Even as late as World War II, officers would often carry and use such blades effectively, as they could cleanly slice through the metal barrel of a rifle and keep going, effectively giving them a great advantage in close quarters."

"You mean…straight through the metal part?"

"Without stopping, yes."

"Wow."

Seta laughed. "Granted, there aren't all that many of the swords that are _that_ well made, but both the blades themselves and the art of making them survive to this day."

"How do they tell the good ones apart?"

Seta sighed. "Well, they _used _to do it by the number of bodies the blade could cut through in one swing. The best could go through five in a single arc, if not more."

Keitaro made a face. "Isn't that kind of gruesome?"

"Oh, very much so. But remember, the samurai class was effectively the ruling class of the time. They enforced the law, so to speak. A new blade, for instance, would often be tested first by executing a criminal. And war was far more common back then than it is now as well."

"I guess so." Keitaro looked at the design more closely, noting the intricacies of the shapes running the length of the blade. "You know, I've always kind of liked swords myself, but other than learning how to use them I never really got the chance to learn much about them, aside from how sharp the business ends can be." He winced slightly; indeed, he'd had _far _too much experience along those lines from _Shisui_ alone, and he knew enough to realize it wasn't the best of its class even then.

Seta looked up at him curiously. "You know, I've actually been meaning to ask you a bit about that myself. Haruka tells me you've had quite a bit of training in the martial arts, and have learned more besides."

Keitaro looked surprised for a moment, then relaxed. "Uh, yeah, some. Honestly, I was a lot more into it when I was a kid than I am now. I can fight, but unless there's a very good reason I try to avoid fighting like the plague. I was doing pretty well, at least up until a few days ago. But then, when someone you care about is in danger a lot goes out the window, know what I mean?"

"Indeed I do, Keitaro-san. For all the experience I've had with battle and self defense in my work, I have never enjoyed being forced to fight, however necessary it sometimes becomes."

Keitaro nodded. "I guess poking around ancient secrets and ruins ruffles some feathers once in a while, huh?"

Seta laughed heartily. "Yeah, you could say that! And quite a lot more often than you'd think, given that so much of what I work on is supposed to be either lost, forgotten, or otherwise untouched in centuries! Still, I've found from hard experience that if one person becomes interested in something enough to search for it, there is usually someone else looking for it as well, and you never get to know who that someone is, why they seek the same thing, or how far they will go to get it until you meet them in the search."

"I guess so. I guess some are less willing to share than others?"

"To put it mildly, yes. Anyway, I'd be curious to know what sort of skills you've managed to pick up in your own experiences. From Mitsune's descriptions, it would seem that you know quite a few styles to some degree."

Keitaro paused a moment, considering. "I know a bit of a lot of different stuff, though most of the bits are only partial understandings at best: a few moves and principles, mostly basic elements. The only style I've learned to any great degree of skill would be _aikido_, and that's primarily because it fits my outlook on life."

"How so?" Seta asked.

"Well…it's almost entirely a defensive art, and in a lot of ways its both a lot gentler and a lot more effective than others. Basically, pretty much all you do is redirect and neutralize an enemy's attack, be it a punch, kick, grab, weapon, one person or several, all without harming yourself, them, or anyone nearby in the process. At least, that's the end goal; actually achieving as much takes a _lot _of skill and practice to pull off effectively, but I have yet to see a martial art that can truly overcome it in practice."

Seta nodded. "I have heard of the art many times. Very noble in its aim, but difficult to achieve without mastery in the art. I've actually wanted to learn it, but I've never really had enough time to spare, I'm afraid. What else have you learned?"

"Let's see…" Keitaro thought a moment before continuing. "I've learned some _Jeet Kune Do _like you have, though probably not nearly as much; a little bit of _kendo_ formally, and a bit morefrom watching Motoko; I've had a small amount of experience with _kung fu_, but I don't use it as much; I've read and practised a bit about _ninjutsu_, but that was only to get a bit better at making scarce of myself when I needed to. Other than that, I've had a fair degree of training with various types of weapons, mostly basics but enough to actually do something with most types. I could probably use whatever is in this room if I had to, come to think of it. Oh, and I had some firearms training, believe it or not. Never got into it much at all, though: I mean, it was actually pretty easy for me, but I'm not really one for guns at all if I can help it. At least with other weapons you have to have some level of real skill to do anything." He scratched the back of his head. "Anything else is probably stuff I've seen one place or another. I can pick up on stuff like that pretty quick for some reason."

Seta whistled. "That's a fair amount of background for someone that doesn't fight much, you know."

Keitaro shrugged. "It's one of the few things I'm actually good at, really. I add to it and keep it up to speed when I can. I just…don't like using it unless I _really _have to, and I'd really hate to be in a spot where I end up having to kill someone with it for lack of a means to defeat them _without _taking their life in the process. The more I know, the less likely I am to resort to that if the time comes."

Seta nodded understandingly. "That's good to hear; too many people get into the martial arts for the power and skill, and don't think twice about who might lose their life in the process." He scratched his chin again. "Like a few of your tenants, for example."

Keitaro laughed humorlessly. "Don't I know it! But, you know? Even when they do end up hurting me badly, I don't want to hold it against them. I'm still their _kanrinin_, and moreover they're my friends. I'd sooner die than let them get hurt, least of all by me." He sighed. "Then again, I guess that's why I ended up here, somewhere out in the middle of nowhere, in order to keep it from being the end of me. I don't know; you think there's such a thing as caring too much?"

Seta shook his head. "No, but there is a such thing as not caring enough. Great things have happened because an individual cared enough for others to go through pain and suffering on their behalf. At the same time, the carelessness of others has been the root cause of all too many of the world's greatest ills. Painful or no, I think caring 'too much' is a far better option than caring too little."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Keitaro fell into thought.

Straightening up and sheathing his sword once more, Seta decided to change the subject to something more pleasant. "Anyway, now's not the time to be dwelling on such things, even so recently removed from their midst as we currently are! I'm afraid I have little to offer for enjoyment's sake indoors, but I do believe it is shaping up to be a much nicer day outside than yesterday. While you're here, you might like to go explore some of the scenery around here!"

Keitaro brightened up slightly. "That doesn't sound like such a bad idea, actually."

"Excellent! In fact," Seta said, snapping his fingers, "that actually gives me an idea, if you're interested. If you go out back, there should be a short path leading down toward the water; I know for a fact that there is a shaded spot next to the waterfall where fishing is quite productive. If I'm not mistaken, I have a few old poles and some tackle in a closet here you could use, if you're interested."

"Fishing, huh?" Keitaro pondered aloud. "Can't say I've fished in a while, but…yeah, why not? Maybe I could talk Mitsune into coming with me, too."

Seta grinned. "_Now_ you're thinking. Tell you what: there should be a basket in there as well. Make a picnic out of it and spend as much time as you want. If you need bait, there should be worms under the rocks nearby that spot; there might be a few things you could use with the tackle as well."

"Cool! Thank you again, Seta-san!" Keitaro said, and turned to leave. Before he did, he asked, "Will you be joining us?"

Seta waved him off. "Nah, there's some stuff I need to do today while we're here. Just bring up anything you catch that looks edible, and I'll cook it up for dinner. You shouldn't have too much trouble catching enough for the three of us, I think; there are plenty of fish in there, and believe me, the fresher they are, the better they taste. It's an experience, trust me."

"Alright, I will. Which closet, by the way?"

"Down the hall, on the right, second door from the end."

After he'd left, Seta thought to himself, '_That should give the both of them something to do, and give them a bit more privacy to do it. Good luck to the both of you, I say. More importantly for me, though, it gives me a chance to get things ready while they focus on each other._'

He sighed, mentally assessing what he knew was coming; getting things fully ready before tonight would be the easy part. Getting Keitaro ready for what was coming would be more difficult, but doable, and hopefully could wait at least a little while longer.

Getting everyone through what came next, alive and in one piece, was going to be the real challenge by far. He looked toward the secret cabinet, the one that held two keys to their survival, to everyone's survival. He'd start by getting _that_ unpacked and ready.

When the time came, the faster it was ready to go, the better.

**********

Two fishing poles, already hooked and ready to be baited.

One picnic basket, packed with bread, fruit, the fixings for sandwiches, paper plates and cups, plastic cutlery, a large piece of folded cloth, and a few small snacks, some cans of soda.

One bottle of _sake_.

Keitaro raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Did you pack that?"

"Yup! It's one of mine. I figured Seta wouldn't be bringing any for the trip, and I was right," Kitsune replied cheerfully. "There's plenty enough in there for both of us to share."

Oddly enough, convincing Kitsune to come with him on a picnic fishing trip had been much easier than he'd thought it would be. She was, after all, not very into exploring the great outdoors; it simply required too much physical effort for her tastes. However, the trip to the fishing hole Seta had told Keitaro about was short and relatively easy; coupled with the low level of effort the fishing itself required, she found no reason to object and every reason to agree.

Keitaro, meanwhile, could not help but feel peaceful. The sound of water tumbling down slowly over the many levels of rock stepping down to the wide stream below was like gentle music to his ears; the cool, flat ground beneath their feet was both table and seat, from which they could slowly and casually enjoy their lunch together. For the first time in ages, he felt truly relaxed and free. How long had it been, since he'd done something like this? He couldn't remember; it had been too long. It was a significant and strangely different state of being for him; on a regular day, he'd be knee-deep in chores by now, or struggling with repairs, or occupied by a number of other tasks. Quite possibly, he'd be dealing with the aftereffects of stepping on one of his tenant's toes (or more accurately stumbling into them at precisely the wrong moments), but right now…

Now he was bobbing a fishing line in a pool next to a waterfall, leisurely eating his lunch and drinking rice wine with a woman that _wasn't_ sending him through walls or over long distances for getting too close to her, a woman that actively encouraged him to get as close as he could. They were practically alone in the midst of nature, with nothing more urgent to deal with than reeling in the occasional fish. He was able to relax, enjoy the calm beauty of his surroundings and the radiant beauty of his girlfriend, with whom he talked freely, flirted with (almost) fearlessly, and cuddled openly, unhindered and uninhibited by anyone or anything.

For one full afternoon, Keitaro knew peace.

He frequently wondered if he was dreaming. He pinched himself a few times to be sure, and the light pain on the flesh of his arm reassured him he wasn't. They willingly spent the whole day where they were, long after they'd caught half a dozen fish and given up on catching more. They ate, and drank, and relaxed in each other's arms, and kissed, until the sun began falling behind the trees in the far distance. They were slightly drunk by then, having all but polished off the bottle Kitsune had brought between them, but neither really noticed, or cared. They had each other; that was really all they needed.

As the darkness of dusk began to settle around them, they finally decided to return and call it a day. The trip back was much slower; with six decent-sized fish on a string to carry and less-than-stable legs to carry them on, they were leaning into and holding each other around the shoulders to stay stable and standing as it was. Even then, their movement was anything but straight. Fortunately, the path was lined by rock on either side; if it hadn't been, they might have fallen off several times.

Halfway back up the path, in the midst of a sway, Mitsune stumbled, causing both to roll sideways together into a giggling heap, their gear dropped and scattered in the process. When they came to a stop, Mitsune was lying underneath Keitaro, their faces no more than a few inches apart. In spite of their day together, their removal from the perils of being witnessed like this, Keitaro could still feel his raw instincts screaming inside to get off quickly, to apologize, to prepare for an incoming assault. They fought with his newer state of mind for control, bringing him to a complete standstill. Mitsune could see the battle by the sudden flash of startled fear in his eyes. In a moment, she knew, he could lose the battle with his instincts entirely; she, on the other hand, had no intention of letting that happen.

Before he could get up, she grabbed hold of him. Before he could apologize, she kissed him passionately and unapologetically.

Keitaro's mind had gone on hold after landing on top of her; now, though, it had officially gone blank. Fear alone couldn't take control of his body or move it away now; here, in the midst of the dirt and the weeds and the rocks, Mitsune was telling him wordlessly what fear could not hope to compete with, speaking a language of arms and lips and soft moans what words could not adequately express.

For a five minute eternity, he told her in the same language how much he understood.

It was only after they'd paused to catch their breaths, flushed and sweating in each other's arms, that the light scent of burning wood and charcoal reached them. At first, it confused them; the memory that they were not _entirely _alone out in the middle of nowhere, apparently, was slow to return to their minds, as was much of their awareness of the world around them. When Keitaro spotted their discarded gear and the line of freshly caught fish again, he finally understood.

"Come on, I think dinner's being cooked and we still have the main course!"

As they reached the end of the path, holding each other even closer than before, they quickly discovered the source of the burning odors: a small outdoor fire pit, freshly lit and in use by Seta. His back was turned to them as he tended the glowing embers; a slew of cooking utensils, platters, and pots were arranged in an ordered chaos on a modern table next to the more ancient cooking pit; on his head was an oversized chef's hat, neatly set over his ears to convey an air of confidence and control over the roasting embers and equipment like a great culinary condom. He turned as they approached a grin on his face. "Ah, there you two are! Catch anything?"

**********

As they had the previous night, the three ate and conversed cheerfully together until it began to get too dark to see clearly. The freshness of the fish indeed contributed tremendously to the texture and flavor, making the meal an experience unto itself. Clearing up the remaining mess from dinner, they helped bring it all inside. As they cleaned the remaining dishes, Seta began to note the subtle changes in the way the Fox and the _kanrinin _were interacting with each other since he'd last seen them together. Though he could clearly tell they were both still a little drunk (he shrewdly guessed Mitsune had something to do with that, but said nothing about it), there was a certain level of newfound ease between them that they hadn't shown earlier. Granted, Keitaro might still turn several shades of red when Seta teased them directly (and, to a lesser extent, so would Mitsune), but both were becoming much more open in showing their closeness to one another even then. Their newfound closeness was having a tremendously positive effect on both of them.

Unfortunately, he knew that they would only have so long before their peaceful chance at togetherness would come to an end, at least for a time. Though he sincerely hoped they might get more chances later on, their time together would soon be anything but peaceful for quite some time.

Within a day or two, they would run out of time completely. Until then, he could only hope it would be time enough, especially for the young Urashima. Though Seta had spent the better part of the last decade rousing and settling as much trouble as he had finding artifacts, all his work, his research, his efforts, and his life would practically be for naught if Keitaro wasn't physically and mentally prepared to face what Seta knew was coming. The more his state improved, the less time they would have.

He would have to tell him soon. Maybe not tonight; they still had a little time left for rest, and come hell or high water he was going to give it to them if he could. But even now, he knew their time here was growing short. He would tell him soon, tomorrow, even, if it could be arranged. But not tonight. The days ahead would be hard enough as it was; Keitaro was certainly doing better, but Seta could tell that he'd need another night's rest to be truly ready. Hell, Seta could do with another night's rest himself.

And so, soon after he noted aloud that they looked tired and suggested they get an early night's rest, he took his leave of them to do the same. It was still early, but the more rest they had, the better off they'd be.

Keitaro still felt slightly woozy, though his system had managed to process through most of the _sake_ by the time he'd changed into pajamas and brushed his teeth. He suddenly found himself wishing he'd packed slightly warmer nightwear than he had; whether because of the raised elevation of the landscape, the close proximity of the stream, or some other quirk of the isolated natural surroundings, the nights were a lot chillier than he was used to this time of year. He wasn't necessarily _cold_, granted, but the bite in the air didn't make him very comfortable, either. Calling on a trick he'd learned years ago, he willed a small part of his _ki _into raising his own bodily temperature slightly, and felt significantly more comfortable for doing it.

As he was returning toward his room, he saw Mitsune leaning on his doorway, waiting for him with a lazy smile.

"Heya, Kei-kun!" she greeted him.

"Hiya," he said in return, leaning in to give her a quick kiss.

"Umm, before we go to bed," she said, looking at him now earnestly, "I wanted you to know…I really had a good time today, with you. You know…as far as first dates go, that was pretty special."

He blinked in surprise. Of course, he knew they were now "going out" together, as a couple; he knew that eventually, that would entail dating as well. However, until just now, the thought that they essentially just _had _gone out on a date hadn't crossed his mind.

"A…wait, that was a…date?" he asked, mystified.

"Of course!" she affirmed. "Think about it: You took me to a great place, spent lots of time with me, and even treated me to an excellent dinner afterwards. Heck, we even had fine wine together!" She ticked off her fingers as she spoke.

"Yeah, well…to be fair, a lot of it was Seta's idea," he replied, scratching the back of his head and looking humble for the praise he was getting.

"But you were willing to go through with it, were you not?" she pointed out. "If I recall, you were the one that asked me to come with you, right?" He agreed with a nod. "Then that's all that really matters, in the end, isn't it?"

Something about the way she stood, eyes half-lidded but shining with a combination of playful mischief and soft kindness, both comforted Keitaro and encouraged him to do more than just kiss her goodnight. Unbidden, a memory from earlier in the day surfaced in his tired but content mind, one that was now showing him that maybe, just maybe, there was more to what she was saying now than was being said. He had two choices of the right move to make at that point, both of which could end up either being the right ones to make or absolutely dead wrong, depending on how he read her intentions. The old part of him, the part that had been conditioned by long, hard experience not to take a step out of line toward _any_ of his tenants (and by correlation any girl in general), told him to end the day now and sleep in his own bed. Yet now, after the day they'd had, there was a new part of his mind growing in strength and sway, one that urged him to take the day just one step further and take all of what she had been and was telling him to heart. He could, he knew, severely damage their budding relationship if he chose wrong at this point, for both options could not be right together.

He was now faced with making his choice: make the bold move, or take the safe way. In the end, he knew he'd never be able to live with himself if he shied away now.

"Umm…Kitsune, I've been wondering…"

"Hmmm?"

"Is…is that offer you were talking about earlier…still open?"

She grinned, and kissed him deeply. "Does that answer your question?" she asked him with a wink when she finished.

"Yeah…I guess it does," he replied in a halfway bewildered tone.

"Good! I was afraid you'd never ask!" She took him by the hand and led him to her room. He followed willingly, but sheepishly.

Shutting the door behind them, Mitsune could see at a glance he still had a bit of fear in his eyes. '_Oh, hell, Kei, it's not like I'm going to bite ya!_' she thought to herself. She could understand his nervousness, though; at the inn, if he was in any of the other's rooms for longer than about a minute, invited or not, his risk of attack went up to the point of a virtual guarantee. If he was in Naru's room (or she in his) for half as long, he would have been dropped on his head through the floor or sent through the ceiling sooner or later almost every time, regardless of circumstances. Even in Mitsune's room, he'd rarely been lucky enough to escape without either Naru or Motoko discovering him there and moving in for the proverbial kill. Mitsune bit her lip; every time she thought about it now, she either felt guilt for her own actions or rage at theirs, or both. Tonight, she wanted to enjoy his company freely while she still could, and moreover for him to enjoy hers without fear. He'd been brave enough to come this far; she didn't want to scare him away now.

As she looked at his expression again, she noticed something else that surprised her slightly: the square frames normally bespectacling his face weren't there! "Hey, what happened to your glasses?" she asked.

"Huh? Oh, I took them off. They're in with my stuff," he explained, his mind grateful for a moment's distraction. "I didn't want them to get broken or lost, and there aren't any tables in the other room to put them on when I go to sleep."

"Oh, I see. Sorry, just not used to seeing you without them on." She tilted her head and considered how he looked without them. His face looked a little older somehow, slightly better defined; then again, there was a youthful innocence in it that only seemed to strengthen in character with time. "You know…I think you'd look pretty good with a different set of frames. I think those square things don't really do your handsome mug any justice."

He looked, and felt, kind of surprised by her reaction. "Huh…I never really thought it would make any difference." His eyebrows scrunched slightly in thought. "I mean, I've gotten new glasses over the years, but…I never really much considered how they looked from the outside, so long as they worked." He scratched his head with his free hand as he considered his appearance; truth be told, it was not something he often did in much detail.

When she saw how the conversation was distracting him from his previous thoughts, she got an idea. "What can you see without them?" she asked.

"Uhh…if its about three or four feet away, I can see just fine. Past that, things become more blurry. I can _see_ them well enough, but…without my glasses, I can't see any details. Like the writing on a sign, for example: I can see that there's a sign, that it's written on, but unless the print is _really_ big I won't be able to read it even from ten feet away."

"Huh. What about other people? Can you tell faces apart, or is it just a blur?"

"Depends on if I know them or not! I might be able to spot someone I know in a crowd, but unless they're standing pretty close I have trouble distinguishing anything in great detail; I can see their faces, but not a lot of their facial expressions. Maybe the general gist, but not the fine stuff. Like, right now I can see you smiling because we're only about a foot apart, but if I was standing over th…" Keitaro blinked. "Huh!? How'd we get…"

In the process of talking, Keitaro's mind was distracted from the nagging fears and lingering terrors running through it, and his body was free to move beyond their grip; this had allowed Kitsune to casually guide him toward the bed before his mind registered what was happening. She drew back the sheets and crawled in first; as she was still lightly holding his hand, her downward motion into and across the low mattress made him automatically begin to follow suit without thinking. By the time he realized what was happening, he was already sitting in her bed, halfway under the sheets! He looked at her in surprise, then at their position, then at _his_ position, then at her again. Her smile got a little wider. "You can show me tomorrow. Right now, you might want to get your other leg under the sheets!"

To his surprise, the leg automatically obeyed before he could think about moving it. A second later, the sheets were pulled back up over them, and her light went off. The part of him that had been screaming to run, to save himself from imminent rejection or bodily harm, was suddenly and completely silenced altogether.

The newer, bolder part of his mind rejoiced.

Under the sheets, he felt her snuggle against him. They faced one another, lying on their sides and pressed fairly closely together. It was only then that could feel how well his self-warming technique had worked; while his skin was warm to the touch, hers was quite cool, at least for a moment. He'd never really noted that his idea of a "normal" comfortable body temperature was in fact significantly warmer than that of many other people under the same conditions naturally. Now, as he felt her front pressed against his through the thin material of their nightwear, he could feel two examples of how great a difference it was pressing into him pointedly, and had to mentally fight to prevent the influx of _significant_ heat in at least one of his extremities!

Mitsune, meanwhile, was relishing the sensation of holding on to what felt to her like a human furnace under her sheets. In the dark, she could just make out the features of his face in front of her, and found his lips with hers. "G'night, Kei-kun," she whispered to him.

"G'night, Kitsu-chan," he replied, stroking her cheek with his hand and nuzzling her forehead with his.

It was a difficult trial for the both of them to _not_ begin engaging one another even further physically, but in the end the combination of sleepiness and a growing sense of comfort caused both to drift off to a peaceful sleep in each other's arms.

* * *

A.N.: Holy fucking crafaka, that was a long one. The next few won't be as long, but I felt this one had to cover the whole day. The title is a loose reference to _Marathon: Infinity_, and it would probably take a while to explain exactly how. Just trust me on that one.

Next chapter, the level of epic will be raised a notch or two, Seta's package will be revealed (the one in the compartment, not the one you're thinking about), and all hell will begin breaking loose. After that, we'll revisit Haruka and find out what's going on back at the home front. Expect a combination of a large motorized propeller and a large quantity of foul-smelling organic waste to get to know one another much more closely after that.

Next update will be either before or after Christmas, not on it. Just saying that now.

Merry Christmas.


	8. Ch8: Tru7h And Vent Core Frog Blasting

Disclaimer: Calmly, I exclaim, "I do proclaim to disclaim the claim that I claim anything claimable in this as my own claimed claim."

Yes, that does make sense. No, I'm not going to clarify it.

* * *

Chapter 8: Tru7h and Vent Core Frog Blasting

Light and warmth were the first two things Mitsune was aware of when she awoke the next morning.

The light was familiar to her sleepy mind, a clear sign that morning had come once again. Yet this morning was quite chilly, as the previous one had been; why, then, did she still feel so warm?

When she opened her eyes, she saw the answer lying next to her, still fast asleep and breathing softly scarcely two inches in front of her.

More accurately, they were laying together loosely wrapped in each other's arms, with their legs partially intertwined between one another. His face bore no worry, no stress, no nervousness as it had so often in the past; right now, his expression reflected his natural gentleness and kindhearted soul.

Not wanting to wake him, she took the opportunity to register and enjoy the sensation of her boyfriend in such close contact beneath her sheets. '_I could definitely get used to doing this,_' she thought to herself. She was, of course, no stranger to physical intimacy, having sought it out more actively than most both for personal enjoyment and "practical" reasons. However, being _consistently _close to one person in particular was something different entirely, and she was quickly learning that the difference was more worthwhile than she'd imagined it to be.

This morning was a case in point. She couldn't quite describe to herself how comfortable she felt right now: she was warm, secure, even a little excited, and she'd only just opened her eyes for the day! Sure, there would be a lot of difficulties ahead just to maintain the privilege of having this, but even now, it felt worth the effort. It was incredible to her mind, so used to taking the easy way out of things whenever possible and always willing to opt for a little less to reduce her own effort, that something would actually cause her to feel that way. Yet somehow, it did.

Deep down, she knew, this was only the beginning. She'd kick herself in the ass for not having started sooner, but at the moment she liked her legs where they currently were, thank you.

She could feel his breath tickling over her bare flesh, sending little shivers tingling up and down her spine. Since they had packed summer pajamas, neither had very long sleeves on top or on the bottom; practically speaking, they were skin-to-skin over large portions of their anatomy. The sensation of each point of contact felt magnified a hundredfold, such that even the smallest shifts and movements sent jolts of electric heat and pleasure lancing through her flesh.

Her left thigh in particular, she suddenly realized, was _very _close to an interesting part of his person indeed, close enough to feel the excess heat radiating from the area like a fresh brand drawn from a fire, hidden just beneath his clothing.

Before her mind could begin to imagine if she could get away with moving just a _little_ closer without waking him, he shifted a little in his sleep and accidentally did it for her. She barely kept a surprised "Eeep!" from escaping her lips as she felt her leg suddenly contact what felt like the tip of something beneath his right pantleg, or more accurately a good portion of its _side_. Her mind already had a good idea of what it was, though the powerful tingling twinges up, around, and through her thigh from the point of contact made control over her own brain increasingly difficult. What clear thought were still making their way through it weren't helping, either; instead, they were quickly trying to calculate, among other things, just how far down his thigh hers currently was. If anything, the answers she was coming up with were almost unbelievable, even if she accounted for mental exaggeration!

Though the contact lasted only about twenty or thirty seconds before another slight shift drew it away, it seemed to her like a small eternity in her mind. Vaguely, she remembered an amusing (at the time) tidbit from a health class years ago, concerning the term _morning wood_. Clearly, they hadn't been kidding about it! A minute later, she noticed that Keitaro finally began to awaken.

Like Mitsune, he slowly rose to the point of consciousness with a lingering feeling of warmth, content, and pleasure, though at first the cause of these feelings was completely unknown and unclear. Within a moment, however, he registered Mitsune's presence in front of, on, and very much around him, and almost jumped out of his own skin before the memory of why she (or, more accurately, why _he_) was there stopped him from doing so. Then the feelings began to become more clear to him: the delightful touch of her skin on his, the warmth of her body next to him, the comfortable but thrilling weight of her arms and legs on and between his own…

…and the familiar, aching sensation of a long, thick part of him in full morning glory, angling down one of his pantlegs and only an inch away from making direct contact with her! He froze, suddenly _very_ awake and _very_ afraid she would notice, not realizing that she already had.

"Morning, sleepyhead!" she whispered to him with a smile, noting with amusement and interest the sudden, petrified look on his face as he began to piece together their current position.

"G-good morning," he almost squeaked out, too terrified to move a muscle in the wrong direction. With her legs scissored into his, he couldn't easily move away without his own anatomy betraying him in the process.

Mitsune almost burst out giggling at the look on his face. Evidently, _he _had become aware of the same thing she just had, and if the blood draining from his face was going anywhere in particular, it was probably only making matters even worse for him! But Mitsune wasn't going to let fear get the best of him like that, and she _definitely _wasn't going to have him shying away from sharing a part of the best of himself for fear of her reaction, either.

So she took the initiative instead.

Before he could react, escape, or get the thing under control, she pulled his whole body directly against hers in a tight embrace. A surprisingly long, thick section of her thigh now became immediately aware of something that _definitely _wasn't part of his leg. His whole body twitched and tensed with shock, terror, and panic, but she made no indication of pulling away, freaking out, getting angry, or acting the least bit surprised. "Don't worry about it," she said to him very simply, evoking a confused expression on his face she couldn't see. "You forget: I actually _like _it."

In the span of five seconds, Keitaro's entire life flashed before one eye while a hundred possible futures, almost all ending with his painful and premature end, flashed across the other. When nothing in the present matched with any of it, his brain finally registered what she was saying to him, what she was doing. Slowly, almost painfully, the terror began to diminish from his mind and body, as he began to grasp the concept that she was _still _holding him against herself, had _not_ even tried pulling away, and evidently did _not_ want to kill him for the "indisputable proof" of his "perversion" pressing into her leg. If anything, she seemed to be holding him all the closer because of it! He felt her hands running across his back, felt her squirm _into_, rather than _away_, from him, and finally allowed himself the liberty to almost pass out with pleasure from it.

She, meanwhile, felt the tension finally leaving his body as his mind caught up with her intent, and took it as a sign to continue. When she nuzzled into him, almost like a cat rubbing against someone's leg, she felt him shudder, moan, and more importantly begin to follow her lead. Within a moment, she found herself following _his_, as his instinctive movements started sending divine sensations all throughout her form in mad arcs and licks of pleasure. She felt his lips brushing, attaching, moving, along the edge of her jaw down the side of her neck, her mind slipping into an increased state shocked pleasure as they went. Her hips moved of their own accord, shifting forward until his thigh made contact with a point that made her whole torso light on fire. Soft, almost mewling moans began forming in her throat as her body began to respond as well…

A loud sneeze brought all motion to a sudden, screeching halt as both froze in sudden surprise and terror where they were, their gazes shifting toward the door. From down the hallway, they heard heavy footsteps approach, pad past the door, and continue straight past it toward the bathroom further down. When they heard the distant sound of a door sliding shut, they released the breath they'd been holding almost simultaneously. Looking at one another again, and seeing each other's flushed expressions, they couldn't stop themselves from bursting into fits of giggling.

"You suppose he heard us?" Keitaro asked finally, getting control of himself again.

"I dunno, but if he did, we'll never hear the end of it," she replied, still giggling.

Moaning slightly in frustration, they reluctantly decided to get up and straighten themselves up as best they could, struggling all the while to reign in their rapid heartbeats and colorful countenances. A moment later, the two enamored guests managed to escape to the kitchen together before their host could spot them.

**********

From the bathroom, Seta sighed in relief. As he'd thought, Keitaro's _ki _had gained strength overnight; however, the magnitude of the increase surprised him clear out of a sound sleep this morning. Though Seta knew full well that positive emotion and rest could fuel such an increase to a high degree, it had done so for Keitaro almost _too _quickly.

Keitaro was, without a doubt now, quite ready in the physical sense of the word. If he became any more ready, Seta wouldn't have enough time to explain what he needed to be ready _for_.

On a hunch, Seta noisily made his way to the bathroom at that point, as quickly as he could. Sure enough, he sensed the increase halt abruptly and subside to a degree. Fortunately, it didn't seem to spike again.

'_Should've known better than to let them sleep in the same room like that, I guess,_' he thought to himself. '_Oh, well…I guess it doesn't matter anymore, anyway; they'll be needing any time they can get from here on out as it is._'

He would have to start telling them this morning. He couldn't wait any longer, and didn't need to now.

Company would soon be coming.

Keitaro couldn't believe what Seta was telling him.

"What!? We have to go back today!?"

Seta shook his head. "No, not exactly. We won't be headed back to the Hinata for some time yet, but we're going to have to leave here very soon. This afternoon at the very latest."

"Why? Why now?" Kitsune demanded, looking even more disappointed by the news than Keitaro. '_Spit, we were __**that **__close…_'

"I'm sorry, but we've already waited here now as long as I dare."

Keitaro picked up the odd choice of words almost immediately. "What do you mean, _as long as you dare?_ What's going on here, Seta?" he asked as a pit in his stomach began to form. He felt the pangs of his nagging doubts reemerging; he _knew _this had been too good to be true, too good to last.

Seta sighed, a look of sadness crossing his face for an instant before his expression turned deadly serious. "You're feeling better and fully rested, am I correct?"

"Well…yeah, but…" Keitaro reluctantly admitted. A part of him had hoped they could stay at least another day, but there was no denying he was feeling better than he had in years; physically speaking, he felt like he could dip an arm in boiling oil and heal it fully in record time if he had to, and not even break a sweat doing it.

Not that he wanted to!

"Good. You're going to need it, and very soon."

"What? Why?" the young Urashima asked, surprised.

But Seta said nothing further on the matter. Instead, he told them, "Finish eating, dress comfortably, and pack your things completely. Don't waste any time doing it if you can, and bring everything with you to the armory when you're finished. I'll be waiting for you there."

Something in the grave, absolute tone the normally upbeat and casual Toudai professor was using finally convinced Keitaro he was being serious. He didn't know what was wrong, or what it had to do with them, but when a man as completely reckless and adventure-seeking as Noriyasu Seta was basically telling you to get ready to run for the hills, chances were you didn't want to hang around dilly-dallying much longer if you still valued your own existence. Reluctantly, Keitaro relented. "All right. But I want to know what's going on the moment we're ready," he said.

Mitsune cringed inwardly. She had already all but forgotten the way Haruka had acted before the whole trip got started; now, she wished she'd remembered to ask about it sooner. '_This can't be good,_' she thought as both she and Keitaro hurried to do as Seta had asked. She felt even more uneasy about where he'd asked them to meet him, not liking the possible implications in the least.

As though to confirm her fears, a pile of weaponry lay on the ground of the armory when they entered it fifteen minutes later. "Watch your step," Seta warned them as he added the ornate _katana _he'd shown Keitaro to the mix.

"What the heck is all the hardware for?" she asked, then nervously joked, "Don't tell me the other girls found out where we were already!"

"Were the case scenario only so mild, Konno-san," Seta remarked sadly. "No, I'm afraid this is only _part _of what we'll need before long. The rest, however, is going to take a bit more explanation."

Keitaro glanced at the pile: aside from the sword, there were a number of deadly-looking armaments large and small, from a gigantic axe to a pouch full of _kunai_; there were knives, ancient talismans, golfball-sized smoke bombs, and strange devices he'd never seen before, all drawn from the shelves and displays seemingly at random. '_More explanation? What about explaining all __**this **__stuff first!?_' he thought hopelessly.

Seta, however, wasn't waiting to explain anything just yet. Instead, he was now moving behind a suit of particularly fine samurai armor from the 14th century, running his hand along the wall. Keitaro heard something click as it reach a point near the edge, and to his surprise an entire section of the paneling swung slowly open. "This," Seta said as it opened, "is what needs explanation the most."

Behind the hidden panel, propped on a stand not unlike one of those in the rest of the room, was one of the strangest looking suits of armor Keitaro had ever seen.

At first glance, it looked like someone had cut segments of shell out of a gigantic tortoise and used them as layered plates, somehow sewn together with something that resembled the scaly skin of a large fish or reptile, all in a humanoid shape. A closer look, however, revealed the material was unlike anything he'd seen made by man or nature. The scales, if scales they were, felt hard as diamond; how they connected to either each other or the armor itself was hidden beneath their closely overlapped pattern, but the entire system allowed them to flex easily without forming gaps. The plates felt like a combination of steel and shell, and were easily harder than both combined.

It almost looked alive, like it had been made of some mythic creature; yet it clearly wasn't simply made of shell and hide.

"What…_is_ this thing?" Keitaro asked, simple curiosity overcoming all his other thoughts and emotions for a moment as he ran his hand over its surface.

"This, Keitaro, is the most important find I have ever made in my career, and is quite possibly the only one of its kind in the world. Basically put, it is a metallo-organic construct, a half-alive creature grown on, into, and possibly _with _its own alloyed metallic matrices into a specific form. It is older than anything else here by far, and yet is much stronger by far in many ways."

"You mean…that thing's _alive!?_" Mitsune asked almost squeamishly, not sure if she should feel fascinated or completely grossed out.

"In a sense, yes, though not in the way you're probably thinking of. Unlike a living creature, or plant, or anything else along those lines, it is not an organism that grows or acquires its own energy; instead, it feeds off, refines, and re-channels _ki _energy, growing itself using manmade and organic materials into a directed shape and form. Each segment of this armor consists of a part of the same organism, grown such that the pieces are separate but can readily bond to one another at will, namely at the will of the suit's wearer."

"What do you mean?" Keitaro inquired.

Seta looked at him directly. "What I mean is that the innermost layer forms a sort of bio-interface between the organism itself, its non-organic armored growth matrices, and the person wearing it. Like I said, it is not alive in the traditional sense, but lives through the influence of a human in a semi-symbiotic relationship. Each person generates _ki _energy, as you yourself know quite well. You can think of the suit as an armored amplifier powered by the excess _ki _energy you generate. It stores it, magnifies it, uses it to repair damage to itself almost automatically, and allows its wearer to control their own _ki _to a degree far beyond what they normally might think possible. On its own, the materials of the suit themselves are nearly indestructible; I've already seen this thing get hit by fifty-caliber rounds in both the plates and the scaled connections between them without so much as a scratch, and I suspect they could stop a heck of a lot more than that just as easily. It's true potential, however, depends on who is wearing it. A regular person, untrained and not particularly powerful, might find that they become stronger, faster, perhaps even capable of a few things not otherwise possible. Someone trained in a _ki_-cemtered martial art, on the other hand, would find themselves capable of considerably more; their skills would become far more potent, more powerful, more precise in their control and range. Motoko, for instance, might find herself surpassing the level of her older sister with relative ease while wearing this suit, and her sister is one of the most powerful and skilled warriors alive today.

"Imagine, then, if someone with both great skill _and _unusually powerful _ki _were to use this? Someone whose natural talent for both generating and controlling their own physical, mental, and spiritual energies was beyond that of a normal person? Such individuals are rather rare, but perhaps two or three exist at any given time. In the hands of such a person, this suit shows its true power in spectacular and practically unstoppable fashion, creating a perfect warrior capable of either incredible acts of heroism or catastrophic destruction. All such individuals are capable of the latter, and there has been at least one point in history when one such individual wrought such hellish power against the world using such a suit as this. Originally, in fact, there were two such suits, and that person managed to single-handedly destroy almost the entire ancient turtle civilization I so often search for and study the ruins of."

"On his own?" Mitsune asked incredulously.

"Oh, yes…very much on his own, and by his own hand. He was quite strong, and quite evil; had not another been able to stop him, he might have destroyed quite a few more civilizations as well. That other used the very suit you see here, and he all but destroyed the other suit with its wearer in the process; ever since then, the suit has been used, protected, and hidden by others like him for a time; some of these you might have heard about, for they often lie at the source of heroic legendary figures today. Ever since that first time, however, all that know of this armor have either tried to use it for good and protect both its existence and usage, or have tried to gain possession of it and use it as the other suit was used: for destruction."

At this point, he looked Keitaro in the eye pointedly. "That's where you come into this, Keitaro. You see, it is only once in perhaps a hundred generations that an individual comes along with both the power to _truly_ wield this suit to its fullest extent, and the strength of character to wield it _properly _in the process. Trust me, there are quite a few people even now that might be able to use its true power, and of them fewer still know of its very existence. It is one such individual, in fact, that is the reason we must soon leave. He is quite strong on his own, and has many resources at his disposal. He seeks this very suit, though he only suspects I might know where to find it; be grateful he doesn't know I have it, or we'd be dead already! But he feels the suit can wait; even _if _someone were to wear it and face him, he'd be able to overwhelm them. Even some of the more powerful martial arts masters of today wouldn't stand a chance, with the suit or without it. If he gained the suit, of course, he'd be practically unstoppable."

"If he's _that _strong, what are we supposed to do about him?" Keitaro asked.

"Like I said," Seta calmly replied, "that's where _you _come in."

Keitaro Urashima, two-time _ronin _and oft-downtrodden girl's dorm _kanrinin_, blinked in surprise. "You can't be serious," he said, his mind unable or unwilling to accept what Seta was implying.

"I am _very _serious, Urashima-san."

"But…I'm just a…a…"

"Just what, Keitaro? Just a regular guy, using what skills he has to deal with a chronic case of bad luck as he tries to live as close to a normal life as he can?" Seta asked. "Let me ask you this: how many 'regular guys' do you know that could do all that you have done, in the manner you've done it? I, for one, could not, even though I possess many of the same skills and a fair proportion of the same luck! In your place, I might last a short while, but not long. A few days ago, you deflected a multi-ton vehicle full of people out of your path using your _ki_, even caught unawares and in an already-overtaxed state of being; I doubt there are many who could pull off such a feat with full rest and a lifetime's worth of training, let alone with little more than an instant to prepare themselves. Naru can hit you through walls with a full-strength hit; you could drive someone twice your size through the side of a mountain if you did the same! There are very few at that level at their very peak, Keitaro, yet you proved yourself to be as much to over fifty eyewitnesses, and that was at your _lowest _point. You're not _just _a regular guy, not by the half."

Mitsune did a double take, finally realizing where this was all going. "Hold on a sec, Seta, are you telling me Kei-kun here is—"

"—destined to be a hero in mythic battle gear, destined to fight great evils and win? Yes, Kitsune, he is. I believe," Seta said, pulling out the upper section of the suit from the display and handing it to him with great respect, "this armor was made to be _your_ size, Keitaro. If you accept it, then try it on now."

Mitsune's jaw dropped. Keitaro looked at the segment of the suit in his hands, vaguely registering its surprising weight and warmth; he looked back up at Seta, then at Mitsune, then back to the suit. "What happens if I don't?"

Seta frowned sadly. "If you do not…then you, I, and Kitsune here will either be among the first to die or among the last of many. And that depends on how long and far we can run, keeping it secret and hidden as we would have to keep you, and how much luck we have on the way. If you _do _accept this, and accept it now…then we have a good chance of surviving, along with many others besides ourselves; if you fail, the result will eventually be the same as if you had chosen not to accept, though perhaps such fate would be delayed and forestalled by your actions. Either way, I cannot make the choice for you, Urashima-san; I will support you as best I can either way, as long as I can. All I can guarantee you is that they are coming for you even as we speak. By now, they will know exactly who you are, and who you know as well; they may already be on their way here. Trust me, they will stop at nothing to find you and kill you if they can, and if they cannot find you they will go after those you know to get to you. That, at least, Haruka and I have been able to hinder them from doing for the moment, but that will not be the case for long; in the meantime we are not safe here, and you least of all."

Keitaro's breath left his lungs very slowly, a chill going through his entire body. Had it been only him that was on the line, he might have chosen not to get involved with such a thing as this, to escape on his own and draw away whatever malevolent forces wanted to cease his existence. But if they knew who he was, none of them would be safe; if they couldn't find him, they'd go after his friends, his family...even Kitsune. Seta knew more about this than he did, and might have ways of putting off the inevitable; but if they truly sought to find and kill him, they would have no qualms about using those he cared about as bait, or torturing and killing them to get his whereabouts from their lips, whether they knew them or not.

Keitaro Urashima hated fighting, no matter how good he was at it. He knew he was powerful, but would rather die than abuse it willingly and cause others needless harm. He would, however, fight to his last breath in a heartbeat to defend those he cared about the most if he had to. If he put on this suit, this relic of some ancient civilization that possessed the potential to destroy their very existence if he didn't stop it himself, then a fight would be inevitable, and just as inevitably they would be caught in the middle of it; he silently prayed that whatever it was that the heavy hunk of material in his hands would allow him to do, it would at least help him protect them all as best he could.

After a long moment, he decided, and spoke.

"…alright. I'll…I'll wear it. I don't like it, but I'll do it."

Seta let out a sigh of relief, as did (a little more quietly) Kitsune. "Then take off your shirt," he said.

In spite of the stark seriousness of the situation, Keitaro was abrubtly taken aback by the absurd instruction. "Huh!? Why ?"

"You won't need it under the armor; it works better that way," Seta replied.

"Oh, right, if you say so I guess…" Keitaro glanced nervously at Mitsune, suddenly feeling _very_ self-conscious about stripping in front of her. "Uh…"

Mitsune face-palmed and rolled her eyes. "I'm _not _gonna run screaming from the room just because you're taking your shirt off, Kei-kun," she said, chuckling as his face colored slightly.

She watched as he removed his shirt carefully and quickly. She'd only glimpsed at a portion of his chest days earlier, and had seen only a part of his muscularity…and his scars. Now, she had an unobstructed view, and the sight was truly astounding.

Seta whistled in a falling tone at the sight. There were literally _dozens _of fading but visible scars all over his small, well-built frame; though the most recent gash had faded considerably, it still stood out the most among them. Each told the story of a serious injury he'd been through, and the stories they told were even more numerous and grim than she'd ever imagined. Yet the surface across which they told their tales was strong and solid like an unbroken rock standing in the face of a hundred storms.

"I've had some pretty bad scrapes over the years, Keitaro," Seta commented, "but I think you've already borne twice as much in the last six months as I've had in my entire career, if not more!"

Keitaro looked down at the marks, as though for the first time. "I've…never really given them that much thought, not until just lately. They all just…fade away after a while anyway. There's a lot of them I can't even see anymore. They're not _that_ bad; I mean, I can heal them fast enough, so…" He scratched his head, feeling a little more self-conscious about them now than he'd ever been before.

Mitsune felt almost ready to cry, looking at the proof of his last year of hell literally in the flesh. "But it isn't _right_, Kei! I don't care who you are or what you've done, _no one _deserves all that, and you least of all."

"She's right, Keitaro," Seta said gravely. "Whatever else happens, that—" he indicated the marks of injury, "has got to stop. I don't care how good at healing you are; _nobody_ can survive that forever, not even the strongest among us. It is indeed incredible that you have made it this far as it is, and that only further convinces me of all I've just told you. Regardless, however, I think even you realize you can't keep letting that happen."

"I know, I know I can't, but…" Keitaro sighed in frustration.

"No buts! We're not gonna let you turn yourself into chopped suey anymore, okay?" his girlfriend mock-scolded him before drawing him into a tight hug. "I know _I'm _not gonna let it happen. Not now, not ever. Okay?"

Keitaro sighed again and returned the hug. "Alright. In that case…I'd better put this thing on."

Releasing him, she helped him get the top half of the suit on. It was fairly weighty, but not overly so. Surprisingly, the inside layer of the armor was lined with a soft, spongy material coated with a soft, almost furry material; it felt almost gel-like beneath the surface, but resilient, kind of like a camping foam with hair.

"Huh…" he said, moving around in it a bit; as soon as it had fully seated on his form, it felt significantly lighter than it had in his hands. "It feels…kinda comfy."

The pants were next. This time, his objections were a bit more understandable, so Seta and Mitsune agreed to turn away to allow him a little more privacy to change his pants for the armored breeches. "Remember, Keitaro: the suit works best with direct skin contact. So wear nothing between it and your skin."

Keitaro blanched. "Isn't…partial contact enough?"

"Nope."

Mitsune giggled at the thought of her boyfriend going commando behind her. Keitaro, meanwhile, was trying not to go beet red as he did. When the armored pants went on, he felt the edges of the two pieces of armor contact each other at the waistline. To his surprise, they all but sealed together seamlessly right before his eyes, forming a continuous layer of unbroken protection that no amount of pulling seemed to be able to break, yet which easily came undone at a touch if he willed it to. '_Damn…this thing really __**is **__alive or something,_' he thought to himself.

A moment later, Keitaro gave them the all clear to turn around again. When they did, they saw that he had donned not only the pants, but the boots and gauntlets as well. These, too, had sealed themselves at the seams. All that remained now was the helm, which he now held in his plated, gloved hands. Mitsune blinked to herself. Not only did the armor fit him perfectly, but it radically enhanced his overall appearance in many ways. The boots were thick-soled, making him look taller than he did in his normal shoes, which were quite flat; the placement of each piece of plating conformed to his body like a glove while accentuating it in all the right places. Each joint was open and flexible, but not at all unprotected; he already looked formidable, almost intimidating, like a warrior out of a lost age wearing square-rimmed glasses. The material of the shirt went up his neck to the base of his skull, covered in the same hard scales as the rest of him. As he put the helm on his head, the only thing not completely covered was his face, which was neatly framed by the slightly visor-rimmed open front.

The moment the helmet sealed itself in place, she felt a strange sense of…_something_, like a soft but powerful glow, emanate outward from him. It was like his presence expanded itself, the essence of him somehow filling the room around her.

Then again, maybe she was just getting a bit giddy. Either way, she thought, he now _looked_ like the combination of badass powerhous and sweet-natured hotness she had recently seen in him, and she liked it.

Seta grinned. "So, how does it feel?"

Keitaro turned his hands over, flexing them experimentally. "I dunno…it's strange. It feels…almost weightless, from the inside. But it's almost warm, like…like it was a part of my body, only it isn't." He touched a nearby wall, reacting with surprise at the light contact he made. "It's almost like I can _feel _the outside surface, as in _through_ the material itself…I can't explain it."

Seta nodded. "The suit is charged through your excess _ki_ in an even, consistent manner, and functions on that basis. In other words, so long as you are wearing it, it _is_ like a part of your body, a sort of tough second skin. When you channel your _ki _for any purpose, you'll find the suit will increase both the strength and level of control you have in the process. The weighlessness is partially it supporting its own weight through the energy it's absorbing, and partially due to the increase it gives to your natural strength. For example…" He went to the center of the room and, showing considerable strain, lifted the massive axe with both arms by the handle, nearly toppling sideways as he hefted its bulk. "Try…holding… _onto_..._THIS_!" he said, tossing the massive thing about a foot and a half over to Keitaro.

Reacting without thinking, Keitaro's gauntlet-covered hands caught the slow-moving battle ax in mid-air effortlessly, though it looked easily big enough to knock him over. He could feel the weight of it as his armored hands gripped the handle, but found that he could support it quite easily, even one-handed. "What the—?"

Seta laughed heartily. "That axe was once used by a Korean general a little over 800 years ago. He was said to have been so strong, that he could punch the support pillar at the corner of a large structure and make the rafters on the roof shake. It weighs about a hundred pounds, and by all historical accounts he was one of those rare individuals capable of using it effectively. I found it during an expedition five years ago, and debated even bringing it back with me at the time, for obvious reasons! You can bring it along if you'd like; you'd probably be able to use it quite well with that armor. However, it might not be the most effective weapon I can give you at this point, at least not for today."

Keitaro looked at him, holding the thing casually near the head with one hand. "What about that sword you were showing me?"

"_That_ is mine, thank you, and I'll be using it," Seta remarked huffily. "Besides which, it is only a two-body blade. If you're going to use a sword," he went toward the compartment again, reaching around one of the blind edges to grab something in the corner, "I've a better one for you to use."

If the armor had been unusual in Keitaro's eyes, the weapon Seta now brought forth was downright bizarre. It was in the form of a _katana_, or at least _looked_ vaguely like one in terms of the blade and handle, but it was at least six inches longer than he might have expected. The handle and sheath seemed to be made of a similar material to his armor plating; in place of a pommel, two curved prongs like those of a _sai_ sword hooked in the same direction as the tip. It resembled something he'd once seen, though he couldn't remember where. Carefully putting down the axe, he took the sword from Seta's hands and examined it closely. He felt the same odd feeling of connection when he touched the thing as he did when he put on the suit, like it was a long-lost extention of his own physical body. He drew the blade, and promptly saw his own reflection across it's length. The pattern along the blade was the most intricately beautiful design he'd ever seen, a work of art in and of itself. He didn't need to test the edge; he could _feel_ the perfection of the angle's molecule-wide vertex through the blade itself, feeling it as though it were a tooth or a nail grown from his own flesh.

"…wow," he breathed. "Does this…"

"Belong with the suit? Well, I can tell you that it was made by the same hands, but I found the sword well before the suit itself. You see, they were hidden separately in very different places, so as to limit the chance someone with the wrong intentions would find and use the two together. If the suit is the ultimate channeling device of _ki_, the sword is the ultimate weapon for the same purpose. With it, even a regular person could quickly learn to blast their _ki _at will through the blade."

Keitaro sheathed the sword, his face lost in thought. "How do you know all this?"

"Partly because I've been studying it in secret for much of my career, and partly because I've worn it once before myself! Believe me, I probably don't even know the half of it to this day, for all I've learned. But what I _do _know is this: there are those who want that suit and sword, and not just the one I told you about, either. He's just the biggest threat among many. Most of them do not get along very well, and _none_ of them like us at all. They have ties to the criminal world as deep as any mafia, and they have substantial manpower to accomplish their ends. Some know of the existence of either armor or sword, or both, and the others suspect something exists to their effect. They all know I know where they were hidden, but they do not know I already have both. What they all know is that I've been looking for someone that can defeat them all, even the worst of them. By now, they've figured out for themselves who you are, and are hunting you actively; if they don't know where you are yet, they will soon. Without that suit on, your _ki _will be detectable to them as it is to me, and they will be able to sense it from miles away; with it, the excess will be absorbed and stored, meaning you will be far _less_ visible to them when at rest, but far _more_ so the moment you use it to any truly significant degree."

"You mean, they can _feel_ where he is right now?" Mitsune asked.

"Maybe not at the moment, but they will once they are close enough. I'd say that with the shielding effect of the suit, if they come within a quarter to a half-mile and can sense _ki_ like either he or I can, he'll show up like a neon light in the dark."

"Lovely…how long do we have?" Keitaro asked.

"If we're lucky, we'll have a few hours head start to work with. If we're not, we'll be having company _very_ shortly."

Mitsune looked pale. "They're coming _here!?_ Now!?"

Seta nodded. "Just a question of how long before they arrive, I'm afraid. Even if they don't know we're here, they have plenty of people to patrol a large area, and they'll be doing just that soon enough if they haven't started already. The road here is pretty straightforward for miles, so the moment one of them takes it we'll be spotted fairly quickly. That's why we must get moving, _now_. I don't know about you, Keitaro, but I do _not_ want to see the repair bill I'll get if they catch us here!"

Seta moved to the other side of the room. "Mitsune, you should be armed as well, and preferably with something you know how to use."

"Umm…I'm not really much of a fighter at all, Seta," she said, suddenly quite taken aback and afraid. "Hell, I don't think I could swing a sword right to save my life! The most I've ever done is shoot cans with my older brother's air rifle, and that was when we were kids!"

"Were you any good with it?" he asked.

"Umm…good enough to win a bet with him, once. Though he wasn't really that good of a shot to begin with."

"That's good enough for me." Seta opened a second secret compartment on the opposite wall, and both Kitsune's and Keitaro's jaws nearly dropped to the floor. If the entire room had been an armory of ancient weaponry, the compartment he now revealed was its modern, heavily laden counterpart. Handguns and grenades of every variety hung alongside rifles, shotguns, and even a small grenade launcher were mounted along the sides and back. On the floor were holsters, bulletproof vests, and freshly stocked boxes and piles of ammunition for everything.

Keitaro stared for half a moment. "Holy shit," he said.

"Hey, when you need to take on the powers that be, you might as well be armed to the teeth to do it," Seta remarked, pulling one of the medium-sized handguns and a holster. "I'd recommend taking whatever you can use and carry. I reserve only this Jericho for myself."

For the next few minutes, the group proceeded to pick weapons to their liking. Keitaro figured he'd be able to handle the bigger guns more easily with the suit on, so he picked one of the biggest he could find (a Desert Eagle Mark XIX, according to Seta; all Keitaro knew was that the bullets it used looked enormous). He attached a holster for it on his right hip, and tied his new sword on the left. To this, he added a decent-looking Remington 870 12-gauge shotgun, which he hung by a strap over his shoulder. Mitsune asked if any of the guns were better for a beginner; Seta gave her a pair of Glock 17C pistols, saying that they would be the closest thing to beginner's level guns he had. Both she and Seta put on the more modern bulletproof gear. Seta took his own sword, pistol, a clip of hand grenades, much of the equipment he'd laid out earlier, and, almost as an afterthought, grabbed a box of small explosives as well. All took as many extra clips of ammo and shells as they could comfortably carry.

When they were finished, Mitsune couldn't help but think they were either about to go to war with a small army (and likely win) or look like the most well-armed bunch of chumps on Earth, but she was glad at least two of them looked like they knew what they were doing. In spite of the seriousness of the situation, she couldn't help but admire the extra bit of tough coolness Keitaro's new gear seemed to give him. Hell, she doubted _any_ of the Hinata girls would seriously dare take on someone that looked like that, even someone like Keitaro!

As they moved toward the front door, bags in hand and weapons loaded in their holsters, the sound of a telephone ringing made Seta (and subsequently the other two) freeze in their tracks. They heard it ring once, twice, then silence; a moment later, three rings, then quiet again; finally, one ring, then a cut short half-ring, and silence.

Seta checked his watch, and swore under his breath. "That's our cue to get moving _now_."

"What do you mean?" Keitaro asked.

"It means our friends are alive and well, and that our uninvited guests are on their way here. I'm afraid I'm going to have to drive a _little_ less by the book than last time. Move!"

* * *

A.N.: Aaaaand there's the shotgun, folks! And it's the boomstick of the bunch, but not the only one. I picked the other guns a while ago; Seta's is a tribute to Spike from Cowboy Bebop, and though I'll be calling it by that name, it'll be in a configuration closer to its direct manufacturing descendent, the Magnum Research Baby Eagle (it's the same frame made by a different group, and uses a barrel and other parts meant for the bigger .45 AE rounds since the .41s the Jericho 941 was originally designed to shoot didn't catch on). The most specific research I did in my choices were the Glocks for Mitsune; I needed something that was a bit easier to handle, get ammo for (the 9x19mm cartridges are very common), and that didn't kick back, since Mitsune is the only one of the three without a great deal of experience to work with yet isn't exactly the sort of person I could see shying away that easily. Keitaro gets the bigger guns, as he will now be able to handle them the most effectively (to give you an idea, if you've ever seen RoboCop's main handgun, that's pretty much what I gave him); I also gave him the shotgun (I settled on the Remington 870; the ammo capacity is high, pump-action is definitely a must, and the stocks look decent where the ones on the Benellis look asinine in one way or another), at least for the moment.

Other things to note: title inspired by _Marathon_ and _Halo_; next chapter will start right after Seta, Keitaro, and Mitsune left days earlier and focus on Haruka and the other ladies, and more besides, but be warned that I might be taking slightly longer with it as I've had quite a few new ideas to work in since the original version was written; and most importantly, be patient, for Keitaro and Kitsune will most certainly be getting busy with each other, but in good time.

Thanks for bearing with me so far.


	9. Ch9:It Kinda Look More Like a Puma To Me

Disclaimer: …ah, fuck it, you all know the drill by now. Onward.

* * *

Chapter 9: It Kinda Looks More Like a Puma to Me…

If Kaolla Su had been the philosophical type, she might have realized the many consequences, moral quandaries, and subtle ironies of hacking into the digital video records of nearby public security cameras mounted outside buildings and intended primarily for police to review for evidence at crime scenes (and occasionally to catch cars running red lights).

If she had belonged to the police department or any of a dozen other agencies and public service management groups, she might have even doubted the possibity that such a feat could be so easily accomplished from what amounted to a custom-built home computer in a room full of tropical plants, strange equipment, and half-built robots.

Kaolla Su was neither of these, and the only thing on her brain that currently competed with her almost playful process of rapidly hacking into a password-protected and encrypted file of a video recorded about twenty-four hours earlier on a nearby street corner was, not surprisingly, the thought that she wanted another banana.

"C'mon, Su, I wanna see the dork getting blown up!" an impatient Sarah was beginning to urge from her seat nearby.

"Allllmost got it…" Su replied with a grin.

Motoko continued to meditate. Or at least tried to. Since the previous night, something hadn't felt right to her, and to her utter annoyance she simply hadn't been able to shake the feeling that it involved the dorm's manager, if only indirectly. By early afternoon, the feeling had only grown more prominent, and though she sensed no immediate danger and saw no direct evidence of wrongdoing, she couldn't help but feel that something was awry.

As a warrior trained to root out and combat evil in any form, Motoko felt obliged to investigate.

She had received a lucky break early on, when she learned that Kaolla Su had been working on finding a surveillance tape of the crash Keitaro and Kitsune had described from the day previous. Su, of course, was more interested in watching the bus blow up than what was happening up to that point and afterward, but Motoko had finally convinced her to find and play the whole scene when she found it, not just the explosion.

It had been almost six hours; now, the two had been joined by both Sarah and Naru (who had each come looking for one of them about a half hour earlier) and everyone was waiting on the Mol-Molian princess to pinpoint the right file. By the sound of Su's mounting excitement, she was now quite close to success.

Finally, the computer made a content-sounding noise over the speakers at last, and Su whooped and danced about like mad for almost a full minute before, on a final twirl of her leg, she casually hit a button on her keyboard with her big toe.

"PLAY!" she squealed excitedly, before dropping into a seated position an instant later.

The angle of the camera was awkward at best, mounted on a corner overlooking the intersection below. A few people walked by here and there, minding their own business.

"Are you sure this is it?" Motoko asked.

"Of course!" Su replied. "I reprogrammed the vidTrackSceneSpotter I made last night to spot Keitaro an' big balls of fire being next to each other 'n the video, an' this one's the ONLY one it found!"

Naru rolled her eyes. "Then why isn't anything happening yet!"

Su's head tilted. "That's 'cause the tape starts twenty minutes before anything blows up!"

Suddenly, in the top-left corner of the screen, they saw Keitaro walking up to the crosswalk at a casual pace.

But he wasn't alone.

"Lookielookie, there they are!" Su said, jumping up and down.

"Calm down, we're trying to watch!" Motoko cautioned, trying not to break her focus from the screen. Indeed, both Keitaro and Kitsune were there; on top of that, they were quite close to one another.

Closer than she had expected, in fact: they were arm-in-arm. The were talking about something, though just _what _was impossible to tell, as there was no audio. A moment later, the two were facing each other, with a strange look on both of their faces.

Next to her, she heard Naru begin to growl angrily. The on-screen pair were starting to lean toward one another. "Is that _baka _pervert doing what I…"

In the span of an instant, however, the whole scene changed, and Naru's question halted before it could finish leaving her lips. Motoko noted a flicker of movement at the top of the screen: sure enough, an out-of-control bus came barreling toward the pair, half on the sidewalk and moving fast.

She didn't have time to be surprised by its appearance, however. Almost faster than she could follow, Keitaro was spinning, and Kitsune was suddenly on the other side of him, just barely out of the path of the oncoming bus.

To everyone's surprise, Keitaro stood his ground.

A split second from him being struck, the bus violently skidded several feet sideways, leaving clear skidmarks in the ground at a sharp angle away from them.

Mokoko blinked. "_What the...?_"

But all was not finished. From the left side of the screen, a Mac Truck hurtled toward the intersection on the opposite road, half a second before the front end of the bus had entered it. The impact sent both vehicles spinning and toppling over, the back end of the bus nearly sideswiping both Keitaro and Kitsune in the process. But again, Keitaro moved incredibly fast, leaping out of harms way with Kitsune still under one arm.

All present stared open-mouthed at the scene. The crash was more horrific than any had imagined; Keitaro's reactions, however, had taken them completely off-guard.

"Why'd that bus suddenly skid away from him like that?" Sarah wondered aloud.

"How did he _move _that fast!?" Naru exclaimed, as they watched the pair on the screen getting back up. They saw him look to the bus and the truck; the only sign of life from either vehicle any could see at the moment was the truck driver, who was beginning to stumble his way out of his torn-open cab. Smoke and flames began to flicker in and on both vehicles.

Suddenly, they saw the pair talking, or rather Keitaro telling Mitsune something; a moment later, she was rushing toward a building just off-screen, while he was running straight toward the bus.

"Wait, where's Kitsune going?" Naru uttered.

"LOOKITKETAROS!" Su exclaimed. In a leap that would have made a kangaroo jealous, their _kanrinin _bounded into the air, five yards away from the bus, to a smooth feet-first landing on its upturned side.

Motoko gasped in shock. She'd seen, even done, similar feats, using her _ki _for the extra propulsion. It had always been a difficult thing to pull off.

He, on the other had, had never done anything of the sort, not that she had ever seen.

That is, until she saw him do it just now, as casually as a runner hopping a low hurdle.

And it didn't end there. Spellbound, they watched him pull off one small miracle after another, seemingly oblivious to the licks of flame that caught the edges of his limbs, the chokingly thick smoke that soon made it difficult to see everything at once, the dark liquid lines forming on his arms and legs as he scraped past debris to pull person after person from the remains of the bus's doorway. The mangled door itself lay on the ground nearby, bent and wrenched even further than it had been before; he'd pulled it off himself, wrenching the sides outward like the curled ends of a hole punched through a sheet of metal. When all seemed to be done, and the only one left was him, he leapt _into _the smoke-filled bus himself. For a long time, he didn't come out, and though they already knew he had to have made it out they still held their breath. Finally, something shot like a rocket out a thick window near the top-right corner of the screen, landing and rolling on the ground near the center.

It was Keitaro, with what looked like two young kids under his arms!

But it didn't end there, either. The flames on the bus grew even worse, and they saw him get up and yell something that made everyone scatter away as fast as they could, including him.

The bus suddenly lurched violently, and blew apart in a massive ball of flame. The last thing the camera caught was a large chunk of metal hurtling toward it, and the video ended very suddenly in static and the words "SIGNAL LOST" flashed on the screen.

None of them spoke. Not even Kaolla Su, who had been too stunned to appreciate the explosion she'd been itching to watch since the previous night.

Finally, Sarah broke the silence.

"No _wonder _he looked so tired when they came back!" she said.

Before watching, Motoko had wanted to find proof that something hadn't been right, so that she could identify it and deal with it properly. Naru's sentiments had been similar, though she'd been less suspicious than she'd been curious.

Unfortunately, watching what had actually happened had done nothing to answer their questions, suspicions, or curiosities at all.

It had only multiplied them.

"W-we have to find them," Motoko all but stammered, barely retaining her normal composure. The sight of Keitaro performing feats like that on a level so far and beyond anything she'd seen before demanded her attention now more than anything. "They must explain this. _He _must explain this."

Though she was loath to admit it to herself, she sounded far more confident than she felt.

**********

'_Where in the hell is Mitsune!? She couldn't be out on a night like __**this!**_' Naru thought in exasperation to herself as she furiously made another mad dash around the entire inn, her third in ten minutes time. She couldn't think straight anymore; she didn't know whether to be furious, or afraid, or confused. Her brain had gone on hold early on, starting when she'd seen her best friend in that _baka's _arms; when he'd suddenly gone all superhuman for the next ten minutes, coherent thought became a thing of the past. Only now, as she hunted for any sign of her friend intent on getting answers, did her brain finally start going off hold.

Stopping midway through the second floor hall, she decided to stop charging about aimlessly and _think_. Neither Keitaro nor Kitsune were anywhere to be found; somewhere between now and the last time she'd seen either of them, they'd disappeared. Where could they be? An awful thought crossed her mind: had they gone somewhere, together?

Naru would normally have laughed at the absurdity of the thought, or become furious if she thought it had any validity.

Now, inexplicably, all she felt was a nagging sort of dread.

Keitaro's door was open, and the room was empty. Mitsune's room was directly behind her, the door closed but not locked. Not even bothering to knock, Naru charged in immediately.

There was no one there. She looked around, frustrated, until she began to notice that something wasn't quite right. For starters, the closet was open and in partial disarray, as was the dresser. A few bottles were notably absent from Mitsune's lineup on her shelves.

Then she noticed a coil of wet rope near the window.

Suddenly, the scene began to make a strange, terrible sense to her. The closet, she discovered, no longer held Mitsune's favorite travel bag. The window sill was wet on the inside from the rain, meaning it had recently been opened. The rope was quite long, and wet at all but a few feet near either end. Mitsune might've been spotted with a packed travel bag in the hall, but if she had lowered it out the window and walked out on her own…

'_Did she…would she have…but then—_'

Somewhere between panic and rage, she ran from the room. For whatever reason, she now knew Mitsune had left for parts unknown, and Keitaro was nowhere to be found, either. Had they gone together? She had to find out.

Though Naru had a fiery temper and unpredictable nature, she was still quite intelligent. Charging through Keitaro's open door, it took her no more than ten seconds to discover he, too, had left with luggage in tow. Another coil of rope, similarly soaked, lay nearby his wet windowsill; much of his (admittedly meager) wardrobe had been recently raided, as had his closet.

He had left in nearly the same manner as Mitsune, and that could only mean they had been working together. In the instant before emotion became the dominant controlling force in her consciousness once more, Naru's mind produced the most likely reasons why they would go off together in secret, without telling a soul.

The first possibility: she was pulling a trick on him, as usual. She dearly wished that was the case, but her mind wasn't about to settle for that in good faith.

The second possibility scared her the most: that the two were now _together_, and headed off to be alone with each other. She refused to accept this, not without proof, and not willingly even then.

Possibility three, on the other hand, held that the perverted _baka_ was somehow trying to trick Kitsune, and had succeeded in doing so; her mind willingly fixated on this, seeing it as the only possibility that made sense without crossing into conceptual territory she did not want to dwell in.

It also instantly channeled her confused, broiling emotions into one she understood very well, and allowed them to focus on one target with all due force.

That Keitaro was lucky to be sitting in the backseat of Seta's van, already fifteen minutes down an increasingly obscure route in a driving rainstorm, was a supreme understatement. In his current state, Naru might easily have killed him just then.

Eleven seconds after entering his room, she was charging out, intent on catching the absent pair and punching Keitaro straight back into the inn from wherever he stood.

They couldn't have gotten far, she thought; if she was swift and picked the most likely path (which, to her mind, was likely to be the train station) she might be able to catch them before they slipped away! She practically _flew _down the stairs, landed, and kept going.

Her pursuit came to an abrupt halt, however, when she collided with what felt like a brick wall made of flesh. The impact dazed her, and she quickly crumpled backward.

Haruka stood towering over her, garbed in rain gear and carrying a small travel bag of her own. The older woman hadn't budged an inch from the impact, and wore a dangerously hard expression.

"Haruka!? W-what are you doing here?" Naru asked, her eyes wide with surprise.

"I'm taking over as _kanrinin_ for a while," Haruka said simply.

"WHAT!?"

"Keitaro had to leave," Haruka continued, undaunted by Naru's outburst. "Both Mitsune and someone I can trust are with him. We, too, must leave, and very soon."

"B-but…why? Where are they going? What's going on here!?"

"Ask me later. We don't have time right now. Gather the others, and bring them here quickly!" Haruka commanded in a tone of absolute seriousness.

"O-okay," Naru agreed, taken completely aback by her adamancy. Granted, Haruka never took any nonsense from anyone, but she usually explained herself better than that when she did. Bewildered and confused, she set off to do as she had been ordered.

Within minutes, the other tenants had been gathered. Motoko had still been on the hunt for the two missing members of their household; Kaolla and Sarah had been discussing and re-watching the security camera tape instead. Shinobu had been making dinner, and was the most thoroughly confused of all. When she heard that something was amiss concerning her _Senpai_, however, she came running all the same. The moment they had all arrived, Haruka began barking orders at a rapid rate, ignoring their startled and confused expressions as she did.

"Listen carefully, all of you. I need you to do exactly what I'm about to tell you, as fast as you can. Don't interrupt, don't ask questions, just _do it_. I need all of you to pack a bag with whatever clothing and supplies you'll need for at least three to four days. Bring anything personal or important with you that you can, _especially _your diaries. Motoko, bring your sword and any other weapons or equipment you have with you. Su, bring your most portable rocket launcher with all the ammo you have that it can use. If you have anything in working condition that can track the location of anyone that lives here, _especially _Keitaro, then either destroy it or bring it with you. If you can, bring all the blueprints you have for everything you've made, especially for any tracking devices. Sarah, you can help Su once you've finished packing. Shinobu, if you can somehow make six servings of whatever you're making for dinner portable enough to carry out to my van in this rain, do so; otherwise, pack whatever you _can _make portable so that we can eat. Do _not _waste any time looking for either Keitaro or Kitsune; they've already left. We must leave before dinner if at all possible; if you're wondering why, save it 'till later. Now _move!_"

**********

In less than an hour, six women and one flying turtle were piled into Haruka's van, the back of which was loaded with all their gear and more besides. While the tenants had scurried about to gather all that Haruka had ordered them to, she had been to Keitaro's room. When she'd left, she'd brought a bag full of his important papers, his diary and photo album, and a single, tattered piece of fabric she'd found lying in his trash bin, among a few more of his personal belongings.

Now, the van was rolling down the highway at a steady clip through the pouring rain with Haruka behind the wheel.

Her passengers, meanwhile, had reached the end of their collective patience.

"Alright, Haruka," Naru began calmly from the second row seat, "it's officially _later_, now. We're all here except for Kei and Kitsune, at least four of us have seen something that needs explanation, and the only one here that seems to know anything about any of this is you. SO TELL US WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON ALREADY!!"

Her demand opened the floodgates, and the questions began pouring out.

"Where are we going?" Sarah demanded.

"W-where are _Sempai_ and Mitsune?" Shinobu asked.

"Why did you have us bring our weapons?" Motoko demanded.

"WHY'D I HAVTA TAKE ALL MY NEW SUPER-KEITARO-TRACKER 3000's APART!?" Su wailed.

"**CALM DOWN!**" Haruka demanded, and everyone fell quiet again. "We are leaving to buy time and perform reconnaissance for Keitaro."

"What for?" Sarah asked.

"He is about to face a very large and very serious threat, and in case you haven't noticed he's already beyond overtaxed as it is. He needs at least a day or two to rest properly _without _worrying about taking care of the inn _or_ being attacked by any of you, and he will _not _survive unless we, too, are safely out of harm's way ourselves."

"Does this have anything to do with what happened yesterday?" Motoko inquired pointedly.

"How much do you know?" Haruka demanded.

"We—that is, Kaolla Su, Naru, Sarah, and myself—viewed a security tape of yesterday's bus accident," Motoko began. "The original purpose was to view the event for ourselves and confirm what Kitsune and Urashima-san described had happened."

"W-what happened?" Shinobu asked timidly. She had a sinking feeling that he was in trouble once again. Frantically, she began thinking of whatever she could say or do to help his case if she could, but couldn't think of anything just yet.

Before Motoko could answer, Haruka spoke. "Keitaro did what he has always been capable of doing in a very public way, out of the need to save a large number of people from imminent death. From what I've heard so far, it was quite the spectacle. Am I right so far, Motoko?"

Surprised, the swordmaiden answered, "Actually…yes. Unusually so, in fact. I have never witnessed him to be capable of some of the things he seemed to be doing."

"He jumped twenty feet in the air!" Su chimed in.

"The dork punched a bus five feet sideways!" Sarah added.

"An' he ripped off a door all squashed on like 'RRRRAAAGGGHHH!' an' pulled a buncha folks off an'—"

"I know, Su. I already know all that," Haruka responded. "It's part of the whole reason we're on this trip in the first place. How, might I ask, did you come across this tape so quickly?"

Su looked like she'd swallowed a fish for half a moment, but responded, "Ummm…I kindasorta hacked it off the internet to see the bus blow up."

'_Great. Just great,_' Haruka scowled inwardly. '_If Kaolla Su found a video of the whole thing already, they'll have it by now, too. Dammit, this isn't going to be easy at all._' "Never mind. I take it at least the four of you now know something of what Keitaro can do?"

Their heads nodded. "Why'd he never tell us he can do stuff like that, anyway?" Naru asked. "He's never acted strong like that before! I mean, we all know he's got that immortality thing going for him, but…"

The look that came over Haruka's face just then would have sent chills down a tiger's spine. "_Immortality? _Keitaro is flesh and blood, Naru Narusegawa. So am I, and so are you."

"But…he is never hurt by anything," Motoko countered. "Has he not returned uninjured from every punishment for his perversions?"

Haruka sighed, shaking her head. "No, Motoko, he hasn't."

"What!?" everyone asked at once.

"He has returned, certainly, sometimes from halfway across the city," Haruka clarified. "I am not denying that. But don't believe for a _moment _that he has done so unharmed. Shinobu?"

"Huh?" the girl answered.

"Reach into that bag in front of you. There should be something made of fabric in there; pull it out and hand it to them for me, would you? Don't look at it yet."

Somewhat warily, Shinobu felt around inside the bag until her hand closed on something soft. Pulling it out, she discovered it was a rolled up lump of familiar-looking dark fabric. Pausing, she said, "I-is this…?"

"Just hand it to them," Haruka said quietly.

"What is it?" Naru asked as Motoko took the ball from Shinobu's now-shaky hands.

"I want you to tell me exactly what that is," Haruka replied, a hard edge in her voice. "Or, more accurately, what that _was_ before last Friday evening!"

Motoko gasped as she unraveled the ball. "This…this looks like…"

"It's one of Keitaro's shirts!" Naru exclaimed. "But…what happened to it? It's in tatters!"

Motoko's face suddenly went very, very pale. "Haruka…there's…this shirt has…"

"I know, Motoko," the driver replied. "A large, clean slice across the front, with blood-stained edges, and one missing sleeve. Care to take a guess at how they got there?"

"Whose blood is…but...but this is his shirt! How could it…" Naru was at a loss.

Motoko suddenly felt queasy. A memory flashed across her mind's eye: a dazed Keitaro, in the hot springs while she was bathing _again_…her sword, charged with _ki_, connecting with his chest, blasting him through the fence in a flash. Only afterword had she seen the door he'd been propelled through, and realized the mistake. She'd thought nothing of it at the time.

She looked at the shirt. He'd been wearing it that very night.

The angle of the tear was the same as her sword's arc had been.

"I…I did this," she said aloud, a note of horror in her voice. "This is…this is his blood."

"Funny you should recognize your own handiwork, Motoko," she remarked. All eyes turned to the now deeply embarrassed and ashamed _Shinmei-ryu_ swordmaiden. But Haruka wasn't finished yet. "I think you know something of how it got there, but perhaps not all of it yet. Why do you suppose he was in the hot springs in the first place?"

Motoko looked up in shock and surprise. '_How could she have known—?' _"He…landed in the water in front of me," she said waveringly. "I…I thought he was in the midst of another act of perversion."

"But he wasn't was he?" Haruka pointed out. "Oh, he came in through the door, all right, and you were inside, but he did not do so willingly. Did he, Naru?"

Naru turned red with surprise and guilt, half-remembering how she'd hit him literally _through _the door. "B-but…he landed on me inappropriately!" she sputtered, trying to defend her actions.

"Oh, did he now?" Haruka asked rhetorically. "I suppose he just _leapt _down a flight of stairs to land on you in particular? Or was it simply that you happened to be standing at the foot of the stairs when he was blasted head-first through the upper banister by a large, flaming ball of laundry? Sound at all familiar, Kaolla Su?"

In the second back row, the hyperactive inventor looked like she'd swallowed a goat. "Well, uh…he _was _standing there bent over…I mean, it was a _perfect _target an' all…hehe…" she said weakly.

Haruka began driving the point home. "Simply put, Keitaro was ricocheted between the three of you, one after another, through several pieces of the inn's architecture, all because of what you wanted to believe at the time, am I wrong? Kaolla Su, you used him for target practice; did you even ask his permission? I'm sure he would have given it, you know. Naru, you didn't even _bother _to think about what he was doing in a pile of singed laundry on top of you, or did you let your fist answer for you, _as usual? _And Motoko…when he landed, backwards and on the rocks I'm sure, did you bother to find out if he was okay, or how he got there? Or did you truly believe a deep cut from a sword with enough _ki _pumped through it to blast him through a thick wooden fence without so much as slowing down _wouldn't _hurt him severely!?" Her voice grew increasingly vitriolic as the girls shrank back in their seats. "And it doesn't end there; you see, he had the misfortune to be holding a broom during all of this. He still had it when it lodged itself in a tree and pulled his shoulder out of socket in the process. By the time he'd landed, he had a deep, foot-long gash on his chest, a dislocated shoulder, two long sticks embedded in his thigh on his way down, a twisted ankle, a cracked jaw, and several broken ribs. Does that sound very _immortal _to you? Do you have any _idea _how often he has to put up with injuries like that!? Keitaro has one power only that allows him to survive: he is able to heal himself."

"What? How?" Sarah asked.

"He uses his _ki_ to speed up the process. It's extremely difficult to do, though by now, I'm positive he's become the leading world's expert at the process. It is also incredibly painful to carry out, as it compresses much of the pain one might normally feel from an injury into a short duration of time. Imagine a week's worth of pain crammed into a single moment! Each injury he receives can take a month or more to heal normally; imagine what he feels when he has over half a dozen of them at once!"

Motoko blinked. "I've…heard of this, once before!" Everyone looked at her in surprise, as she continued. "There are…certain _ki_-based martial arts which teach defensive and healing techniques. They use inwardly channeled _ki _to repair damaged tissues and organs, mend bones, heal wounds…but I've never heard of any but a few masters even being capable of performing them."

Naru's jaw dropped. "You mean…he's a martial artist!?"

Haruka chuckled humorlessly. "Well, that certainly took you long enough. Keitaro has already fully mastered or trained in quite a few martial arts that I know of, and probably more that I don't. He's quite good at it, actually; he soaks it up like a sponge, a born natural. Quite frankly, if he and I were to fight a straight battle, he'd be able to win easily."

This took _everyone _back several steps. Haruka was one of those few, rare individuals neither Naru nor Motoko would risk taking on willingly; when angry, she was easily stronger than Naru, more skilled than Motoko, and more experienced with hand-to-hand combat from her travels with Noriyasu Seta than anyone else they knew.

Now, she was telling them that the guy they'd long pegged as being weak but practically indestructible was, in fact, a great deal stronger than anyone present!

"If he could defeat you in battle, Haruka-san, why could he not do the same to any of us?" Motoko asked.

"Because unlike you, Motoko, _he_ would rather take the hits himself than deal them out to his _friends!_"

The silence was deafening after that. For a minute, no one spoke, trying to process what Haruka had just said to them. Finally, Haruka continued. "Do you know what he did, less than five minutes after repairing the damage from being nearly killed by half of his residents for the umpteenth time?"

Naru blinked. "He…got up and came back?"

"Oh, eventually. But not right away, not that time. You see, while he was enduring the agonizing process of healing himself, he was being watched by a Fox."

"You mean…K-Kitsune!?" Shinobu cried.

"I do indeed. You see, she was on her way back early that night, and he landed nearby. She watched the whole thing, beginning to end. When he spotted her nearby, she ran. Unfortunately for her, there was a gang of thugs to greet her when she reached the path. But she was not hurt that night, for one reason and one reason only: Keitaro."

"Whaddaya mean? What'd he do?" asked Su.

"He used the very martial arts skills he adamantly _refused_ to use on his tenants to defend the life, safety, _and _honor of Mitsune from eight hardened criminals to whom perversion was a severe understatement!" she snapped. "Perhaps you saw the news the next night?"

The girls all colored. They'd missed most of it, due to the frenetic antics over the remote control that night. But Shinobu remembered a part of it. "U-um…I didn't hear everything, but I did hear something about an unknown man fighting a small gang to protect someone…I t-thought it was kind of s-sweet…" She began to blush furiously as she realized the implications of her statement.

"Good for you, Shinobu; that makes two of you who weren't completely blind and deaf. Tell me: did he sleep at all that night when he returned, carrying an unconscious Mitsune on his back?"

"U-um…no, actually, he didn't." Shinobu said, her face falling. "He…s-stayed up until he'd finished all the repairs; it took him all night, and all morning, and he only s-slept for a few hours in the middle of the day! H-he must've been exhausted!"

Haruka nodded. "And I'm positive that he's done much the same thing in the past as well. And yet none of you, who have lived over a year in the same dwelling with him, ever even noticed, did you? The thing is, as much as _you_ didn't notice what he was capable of, neither did anyone else…or they wouldn't have, until yesterday. I think even _you_ took notice of what happened then, or you wouldn't be breaking into the city surveillance system to watch."

Naru huffed at this point. "That still doesn't explain why he wouldn't _tell _us he can do all those things! And it _really _doesn't explain what he was doing there with Mitsune! I _knew _I shouldn't have let him slide that cock and bull story by me about them meeting by chance! Where is that stupid _baka_, Haruka? I'll—_oof!_"

The van pulled off to the side of the road and lurched to a screeching halt, sending everyone surging forward against their seatbelts. The driver turned slowly, eyes locking on Naru with the promise of hell burning within them.

"Have you been listening to a _word _I've said!? Keitaro rescued, by himself and at his own life's risk, over fifty people from a mangled, burning wreck, and you have the _**audacity **_to think like that!? He _tore _that bus's door door off on his own to get them out, and he jumped into the smoke and fire to pull the last two _children_ out when no one else would get near it, and all you can think about is who he was with at the time!? Keitaro, as we speak, faces a threat greater than a hundred of you at your very worst; he alone can face it, and he is _half fucking dead from exhaustion! _He would be going with us at this very moment, if I could trust the lot of you to not attack him at the drop of a hat!"

Naru shrank back in her seat at the withering force of Haruka's verbal fury, but it didn't stop. "Keitaro started that day already at the point of exhaustion. Saving those people pushed his body to the point of collapse last night; had you chosen to answer his selfless deeds with your _fist_, he wouldn't be able to come back, **period!**"

All the blood drained from Naru's face as Haruka's words sunk in. The fury in Haruka's voice and glare finally faded. "That is why I am stepping in: to prevent you from doing something you will regret for the rest of your life. Among all of you, only one had enough maturity to truly come to recognize him for who he really is on her own. It is because of her that Keitaro's blood is not on any of your hands, and it is because of her that we all might survive this longer than a few days. That is why Mitsune is with him, and why they are not here with us. I hope, for your sake, you can bring yourself to understand that before we meet them again, or so help me I will hit _you _into the next continent myself!"

There was a long moment of silence. Though Haruka's anger had been focused primarily on Naru, the message was intended for all of them, and affected them all to some degree. Naru felt her confidence in her own viewpoint wane sharply; Motoko struggled with the idea of their _kanrinin _being potentially more powerful than she herself was, yet so completely unwilling to use it against them as she used hers against him; Kaolla Su worried that she had gone a little too far over-the-top at his expense, a rare thought for someone who normally paid little attention to such things; even Sarah began to have doubts about her nonchalant attitude toward what happened to him, where before she could generally have cared less.

The only one that still kept her head was Shinobu: she, at least, knew she had made an effort to help her _Sempai _wherever she could, and for once felt completely vindicated for having done was thus she alone that felt safe enough to ask another question.

"Umm, Haruka? Couldn't we have…waited for them to come back at the inn? Where are we going, if not to where they're going?"

Haruka sighed, starting the van once more. "Right now, Keitaro's safety is dependent on how long he can rest and _not_ be found by anyone, including _most_ of you. _Our_ safety, on the other hand, depends on not being found by anyone looking for _him_."

"By whom?" asked Sarah.

For a moment, something crossed Haruka's expression that was unreadable, a flicker of emotion too complex to put into words. "By people…you _really _don't want to get to know, not like I did."

"I-is Sempai in danger?" Shinobu asked in fear.

"No, not at the moment," Haruka said more kindly, the strange cloud in her expression lifting. "Right now, he's on what basically amounts to a couple day's forced vacation with someone he can trust and someone else I can trust implicitly. Only he and I know where they've gone, or where the place even is, and neither of us are telling where anytime soon. Don't worry, he'll be fine for now. "

"Who's he with?" Motoko asked, intrigued. Haruka rarely spoke of _anyone _she trusted, let alone implicitly. Before she could get an answer, however, the sense of something amiss she had felt since the previous night grew suddenly stronger, before falling off again to something a little stronger than it had been.

Somewhere out on the roadway, something or someone very dangerous had just passed them. And Motoko wasn't the only one to feel it.

"I'll tell you that later," Haruka said, suddenly shifting her focus to a short line of cars passing quickly in the opposite direction on the road. She watched them pass carefully; none took an active interest, but all sped in the direction of the Hina-Sou. '_Shit, they're not wasting any time, are they?_' she thought. "Right now, we have to make tracks." The van lurched into higher gear and sped down the road, turning onto a different highway in another direction shortly thereafter.

**********

A dozen vehicles pulled up in front of the abandoned Hinata-Sou at once.

The occupants of each vehicle, a collection of trained professionals and common criminals, they all served one master, who was currently waiting impatiently in the lead vehicle for them to get to work. He expected results from this group, yes, and he expected them fast.

After all, he was paying them out the nose for their services, and he wasn't about to tolerate slacking off with _his _money.

His orders for them were simple enough: find the owner of this establishment, the one that had been identified an hour earlier by a well-paid off police commissioner. Clever bastard, that one. If all went as planned, he'd have to give the man a bonus.

If it didn't, maybe he'd have someone else kill the corrupt official for him. Maybe not. It depended on what he felt like doing to him, and he knew he could do practically whatever he felt like doing.

Right now, he was reviewing the small tidbits of information they had on the owner, his tenants, and his nearest relations. Fascinating stuff, really. A guy that apparently lived among young females. He had powerful relatives, that much was certain. One lived nearby; her name was one already known to his organization as an irritating nuisance. He sneered; it was hardly surprising this one had been pegged as such a great threat, considering what a pain his blood relatives had been over the years.

But that was no matter. Garhem Essade, leader of an organization designed, built, and run practically for his own personal benefit, an expression of his own power and influence, dealt with all such nuisances in his own good time.

The men under the somewhat overweight former business tycoon were strong and professional in their own right. He was, of course, superior in terms of skill to nearly all of them in his own right, but these days he found it was far better to get their hands dirty for him.

When they returned with their initial reports, however, Essade was far from pleased with their work.

Apparently, they had already left. Owner, tenants, and nearby relative had already made scarce of themselves before they had arrived.

How disappointing. He had been looking forward to meeting some of those tenants, too; they would have made _excellent _playthings once their landlord had been dealt with.

It must have been Haruka that warned them. He scowled; that interfering _insect! _He would enjoy making that one pay for all the trouble she'd caused over the years. Her and that wretched dirt-scooping twit she was so attached to. _He _was even worse! Meddlesome and beyond his control. The last time they'd met, Essade had learned about this supposed hidden hero, and the fascinating bit of ancient power he was supposedly able to use to great effect. Scowling again, he promised himself that he would _personally _squeeze the troublesome adventurer for the location of that item himself.

After all, there were worse elements to deal with than Garhem Essade was himself, and every bit of power would be of use in getting them out of his way.

Like any other heap, there was always someone at the top of the pile. Essade existed in a pile of the evil, corrupt, and self-serving, a very large pile indeed. Much of it he owned or controlled.

But getting to the top, ah, _that _was a true challenge! And _staying _there, even more so.

His life had been spent climing the heap, and now only one stood in the way of him and the apex. An apex he intended to remove, and to replace with himself

Unfortunately, they did not call that apex Atrocity for nothing.

For now, the abandoned structure would serve nicely as a temporary base of operations in the search. His men had been the first to arrive, but wouldn't be the last by any stretch. Like a greedy dragon guarding a horde, he would glean and guard what information could still be found in the confines of this dormitory.

Tomorrow, he would begin the hunt in earnest.

**********

Over a day had gone by, and they hadn't been found.

Haruka counted her blessings as she pulled into an extremely well-hidden tunnel that led to an underground parking garage. They'd been fortunate, the first night; aside from the initial group of vehicles she'd spotted heading toward the inn, nothing had yet recognized her vehicle and none seemed to be expecting them to have already left; this gave Haruka a few hours to get to her first destination without being followed. There, a few friends of hers provided them lodging for the night; they were expecting them. They had been contacted by another mutual friend, who'd been called by another, whom Haruka had called herself. The lines of communication, of course, would be traced step-by-step, but it would take time; by the time they were fully traced, each friend in the chain would be long gone, as would many others in a network of chains just like it. They'd departed with some supplies early the next morning, as had the friends that had lodged them for the night (though they went in a different direction entirely).

The second leg of the journey had been the most dangerous by far. By the time they had set out, the first, and biggest, group she knew of was already actively patrolling many of the roads, searching up and down for anyone they could find. Haruka had experience with avoiding these in the past, as had several of her friends; it was quite difficult, but doable. By midday, matters had grown worse; rival groups had caught on to what was happening, and their own patrols had been added to the fray. Near the end, there were three vehicles from different groups meandering through traffic not far ahead of her, all searching for her at once; fortunately, they found each other first. Their ensuing firefight near a divide in the highway forced them to continue in a different direction from her van (and a fair portion of the rest of traffic as well), and she managed to slip by without any of them noticing.

They, fortunately, had been the last in Haruka's gauntlet run.

Finally, she had made it to the safest place they could go, a place that was well hidden and well defended both inside and out. She'd been there only a few times in her life, always at greatest need and always in secret. For as long as she had known of its existence, there had never been many more than a dozen people coexisting at any time within its reinforced bunkerlike walls, though it could certainly hold hundreds at a time at need.

This time, it would be filled to capacity in a matter of days; now, it would have to serve its true purpose at long last.

As the van pulled in the dimly lit cavernous garage through one of a dozen entry tunnels, Haruka noted that at least a third of those that were coming had already arrived.

"What…_is _this place?" Motoko asked from the back.

"This," Haruka said, pulling into a space, "is the only place we can go to be safe, even if only for a short while longer. It used to be an underground bomb shelter, built in secret as a fortress against nuclear war. It isn't the only one of its kind, but it is one of the largest, and the only one that is privately owned. Take out everything we brought, including the other packages I have in the trunk; I'll be back in a moment." At this, she left them and walked a short distance toward a narrow alley-like groove in one of the complex's massive concrete support pillars. Inside, she found what she needed: a row of large, flat pushcarts, the sort that could be commonly seen in a grocery or hardware store for moving heavy, bulky items en masse. She took the nearest, rolling it back to the van. "Help me load everything on here, then follow me," she ordered, and the girls did as they were instructed.

When they were finished, she heaved the laden cart with considerable effort, making it move slowly and steadily toward a very large elevator half hidden around a nearby blind corner. There were no call buttons on this elevator; instead, a numeric touchpad was set in the wall to one side. Punching a long code into the pad that she had made sure to learn by heart, she heard it beep in confirmation.

The thick doors of the lift separated slowly at the middle, the horizontally serrated series of flat tips and matching pits along the inner edge making it resemble the opening jaws of a great metal behemoth. She promptly pushed the cart over the threshold into the very spacious interior of the lift, with the others warily filing in behind her. Though they were already underground, the wide lift lurched and moved down even further after the doors had shut, slowly but surely descending ever deeper into the earth.

Whatever surprises the past few days had held for the tenants, none could quite compare to what was waiting for them at the end of the ride. They stepped out of the dimly lit elevator into a huge, bright, iron-walled underground fortress. They were in a cavernous central area bustling with people of every imaginable background. There were ordinary civilians, scientists and engineers, heavily armed personnel in custom uniforms that resembled a cross between the martial arts _gi _and riot gear, and foreigners in full homeland dress and garb from many distant and unrelated lands. Except for the riot-gear clad squads moving about, there were fewer than half a dozen representing any given group, and the mixture was as incredible as it was absurd.

"What…the…heck?" Naru asked, gazing around with a slack jaw.

"Who are these people?" Sarah asked.

Haruka smirked, lighting a fresh cigarette. "Not what you were expecting, I take it?"

Motoko's eyes darted around quickly, taking in the scene before her visually. The uniformed guards in particular caught her attention: each moved, acted, and stood in a manner she'd often seen among those trained in the martial arts. And yet…

"What is the purpose of this place? I see many that act as though they have been trained to fight here, yet few who do so in the same manner. Are they warriors from many schools of one art form?"

Haruka nodded. "Most of them _are _from different schools of quite a few martial art styles, Motoko. Some are from _several, _in fact. I doubt you'll find many with the same, let alone similar, backgrounds here."

"Yet if you wait long enough, one may very well find you, Motoko," a strong, melodic voice spoke from behind them.

Motoko turned in surprise and disbelief, and not a small amount of fear. Of all the people she thought she might encounter in such a place as this, the one that addressed her had been last she had ever expected.

"_Ane-ue_!?"

* * *

A.N.: Blimey, that became a bit longer than it was when I started! The beginning scene was a bit of a new addition to the original chapter I had written, and might slightly alter the way I redo some of the later chapters a bit. Not much, but a little.

Anyway, the title is a reference to the machinima from RoosterTeeth, from a quote early in the series concerning the appearance of the Halo vehicle nicknamed the Warthog. Funny series, that. Well worth watching. Only series with a smart-ass Mexican robot, an idiot in "light red" *coughpinkcough* armor, Shisnos, a hotheaded English-Blargh translator/bomb, and CPR that cures sniper headshots.

In case you are wondering, the group that is at the Hina-Sou is one of three main antagonists I have planned. All three are OCs, and all are different. Of them, he is perhaps the most resourceful and the least physically powerful. He mentions the most powerful one, however, and believe me when I tell you that THAT one is one scary-ass evil mother fucker. I'll be getting to him later, along with a third that is somewhere between the first two and very much unlike either.

Also, be sure to note these villain's regular names when I give them: they are anagrams for one or more aspects of their personalities. As a hint, first one is two words, one twice the length of the other, both rude.

And the forecast for the next chapter: Expect heavy lead showers to the tune of "What Planet is This?" Look it up, its on one of the Cowboy Bebop OSTs. Just never listen to it while operating any sort of vehicle, or it will give you dangerous ideas.


	10. Ch10: Tank Beats EVERYTHING!

Disclaimer and Early Notes: I own the conceptual idea for the armored _ki_ suit, as I spent quite a good deal of time developing it in my own head. I own nothing else, so don't bug me 'bout it.

And as an aside: smeg in hell, this is going to be a long one. I usually end up adding a thousand or two words during revision, and this thing's in the 9,000 word range _to begin with. _The thing's a solid nineteen pages on MS Word right now; the biggest _revised _chapters I've done so far only got up to 18!

This is going to take a while; onwards, at any rate…

* * *

Chapter 10: Tank Beats _Everything! _Oh, Man, I Could Do This All Day!

The one advantage of a long, backwoods road is that it typically has very little traffic. When driving a van at ninety miles an hour, that tended to be a very good thing, indeed, as there was significantly less of a chance of hitting somebody or running them off the road on the way.

Unfortunately, it also made you a lot easier to spot, a fact that Seta realized long before setting out.

The thing was, when you had a van as readily known, recognizable, and sought for as his was to the very people he was trying to avoid, going slowly would only give them more time to recognize and catch up to their intended quarry.

So it was that when they finally did spot him, two hours into the ride, he sped up as much as he dared.

So, too, did his pursuers. All twelve of them.

"GET DOWN!" yelled Seta as a hail of bullets rained down on the back of the van, cracking the back windows but bouncing off the van's paneling.

The windows were only somewhat bulletproof, and wouldn't last long under sustained fire; the van itself, however, was practically indestructible. It was a marvel of engineering: built like a tank with reinforced armor, everything from the bumpers to the seats themselves were almost impossible to destroy without some serious armor-piercing artillery. It could win an argument with a brick wall at high speed if it had to.

It had done so quite often in the past, at any rate.

Their pursuers were catching up to them. Three pickup trucks led their pack; behind them were two roaring custom jobs, both edging to get in the lead and attack. Three motorcycles were coming up the side, and four large cars kept pace behind them.

Each vehicle had at least one gunman; most had more.

One of the pickups came up their left, machine guns tearing the side windows apart. Seta's custom Jericho answered in like kind, his .45AE rounds getting familiar with the truck's driver and sending the pursuer veering out of control. Most of the others got out of the way; one of the rear cars, however, plowed straight into it.

Two down, ten to go.

In the third row back seat, Keitaro was doing his level best to shelter Kitsune with his armored form from the sprays of lead that kept raking over their heads. There were few lulls in the incoming fire, but both he and Kitsune were answering as best they could. Her shots were less accurate, but with both Glocks blazing at once she was scoring quite a few hits. Keitaro's Desert Eagle, meanwhile, blasted high-caliber rounds like a handheld cannon; with enough armor to shrug off the stray fire, he could use the gun to devastating effect.

In two minutes time, they had managed to take down another truck, two of the motorcycles, and one of the souped-up cars between them, while Seta nailed a second car coming up the other side. With one truck, one bike, one racer, and two cars remaining, their pursuers ranks had thinned by over half their original force.

They were now quickly approaching the ocean. The road was now running parallel to a seaside cliff, curving to follow the steep slopes. A little further, Seta knew, and they'd be able to make their escape.

Unfortunately, the remaining truck's driver picked that moment to land a successful shot.

The round grazed across Mitsune's unprotected shoulder before she could get out of the way, causing her to yelp in pain.

"MITSUNE!!" Keitaro yelled, pulling her down to safety. Adrenaline and fear wracked his system as his attention immediately focused on her. She clutched her bleeding shoulder, her guns dropped and forgotten as she lay breathing in quick short breaths through clenched teeth. "I'm…I'm okay, it's just…just a graze…" she managed to say, the pain throbbing in time with her heartbeat.

The next ten seconds proved to be the decisive moment of the whole ordeal. Keitaro's rage at seeing them injure his girlfriend ignited in him a fury he had never known. Fueled by the excess energy of his emotion, his entire suit took on the eerie half-glow of amassed _ki_. His own perception of time slowed to a crawl, and his senses became more acute than ever before. He felt, rather than saw, the five remaining pursuers, distinguished which of them had fired the shot, and prepared himself to do something insane.

In real time, this took two seconds.

Half a second later, he had leapt backward over the seats, the Remington in one hand with its strap flying in the air, the Eagle in the other. The force of his pushoff from the seats in front of him was enough to jolt the whole van forward. Just behind the van's rear doors, the remaining motorcyclist was edging closer to jump on the back; just as he was doing so, however, he was suddenly and startlingly blasted off backward as his own bulletproof vest was all but shredded by buckshot.

As the cyclist flew over the cliff into the waters below, dazed and bleeding in several places, his fellows quickly registered the sudden appearance of what seemed to be a royally pissed off armored demon, who was now launching himself in a backward somersault off the handlebars of the discarded motorcycle. The bike jerked back on one wheel and flew backward, landing upside-down in one of the remaining cars.

Startled and suddenly desperate, those that remained opened fire on Keitaro. Standing now on the roof of the van, Keitaro had no trouble dodging many of the bullets as they came.

Seven seconds had gone by; the Remington was already back over his shoulder.

Three .50 caliber Action Express rounds left his Desert Eagle in as many seconds, each fired with uncanny precision into three vital points on each remaining vehicle.

The first round tore off the tire of the last regular car, sending it into a swerving nosedive of a roll.

The second, aimed higher, entered the souped-up car's half-exposed fuel injection system, igniting a spray of gasoline that quickly engulfed the engine and sent the car to a screeching halt.

The final shot entered the window of the truck at a sharp angle, its aim so precise that it neatly hit its intended target and embedded itself into the center back half of the driver's seat, taking the most valuable part of the driver's personal anatomy with it.

Needless to say, the truck spun out of control, its driver singing soprano.

Seta watched in the remaining half of his rear-view mirror in shock as his remaining pursuers were sent flying, spinning out of control or screeching to a fiery halt all at once, with the last one to go fully out of commission wobbling and making a squeal that didn't sound like it was just the tires. He was even more surprised when the still-glowing armored Keitaro swung back inside the remains of the rear window with one arm, holstering his side-arm in the process. It took him about two seconds to register all that had happened, and two more to remember they were only a moment away from making their final jump.

"Strap in!" Seta yelled to his passengers, flicking a set of switches on his van's dashboard. Immediately, a second, thicker set of windows slid up and sealed in place of the first, knocking loose the remaining shards of the originals behind them. At top speed, the van sailed off a curve in the road, straight through a modest guardrail, and flew toward the ocean below. A final switch activated the van's submersible mode a second before it hit the water with a jarring jolt.

The van sank quickly into the water, its propulsion switching to match the new environment. The moment he was sure everything was still in working order, Seta unbuckled himself and turned his attention to the back seat. Somehow, Keitaro had made it back to his seat as swiftly as he had left it, buckling in and bracing both himself and Mitsune before impact. Now, he was cradling her in his arms, his attention focused on her wound.

The slice made by the bullet's passing was quite deep, and she was beginning to lose consciousness from blood loss and shock. In the front seat, Seta was scrambling to get a first aid kit in his glove compartment, so that they might have something to bind her wound with. As the van continued its descent into the dark gloom of the water, it became increasingly difficult for him to see. The interior light in the van had been blown off by a stray bullet, and there were no flashlights; silently cursing to himself, Keitaro realized neither he nor Seta would be able to see what they were doing.

In an instant, he was struck with a strong sense of déjà vu. He'd been here! He'd seen this before, just like this. He couldn't see her clearly now, but he still saw that she lay in his arms, bleeding. Her blood. Mitsune's blood on his hands, and not by his hands.

His hands. His gauntleted, unfamiliar looking, _ki_-infused hands. Hands capable of doing more than he could, on his own.

He knew what he could do, what he had to do. Using his suit, he had a chance. He could heal her!

He closed his eyes, one final regret entering his mind. He wished he had more time, so that he could do this more gently, but he didn't.

'_I'm sorry, Mitsune,_' he thought with regret, preparing himself to attempt what he once had considered impossible,'_but if this works, it's going to hurt like all holy hell._'

He grabbed the wound, hand glowing.

**********

The last thing Mitsune could remember was Keitaro suddenly disappearing from his seat, a sound like a cannon at the back of the van, and three more slightly different blasts going off what sounded like right over her head. She felt delirious as her world faded to black with an odd squealing noise that reminded her of an opera singer stubbing her toe mid-note; perhaps she was becoming delusional?

The first two things she felt as she came back to consciousness were an intense, incredibly white-hot pain in her wounded shoulder, worse than what it had previously been, and a feeling of equally intense comfort and relief immediately afterwards. The pain dropped away quickly, but what had been so bad that it had made her scream out loud like that? She couldn't describe it; for a moment, it had been like a red-hot poker buried into the wound, but afterward it only felt a little warm with a mild ache. Instead of pain, she felt like she was being held in a warm, soft, comforting cocoon, though in reality she could tell that whatever _was _holding her was hard as rock. She opened her eyes; it was too dark to see anything very clearly, but from what she could see it looked like she was still in the back seat of Seta's van, being held and gently rocked in the arms of her boyfriend.

"Wha…what happened?" she asked blearily.

"We're safe, now," she heard Keitaro whisper to her gently, holding her now even more closely in his relief. "You were hurt, but you'll be okay, now. I healed you."

Shocked, she reached with her good hand to her wound, only to find it had already sealed. Fresh, smooth skin that was warm to the touch, if a little sore, now filled the space where the deep gash had been.

'_So that's what it's like to be healed like that,_' she thought, resisting the urge to shudder. To think that he'd done something like that to himself so many times…and now, here she was, reeling from the effects of experiencing it once.

Suddenly, she realized she had no idea where _here _even was.

She sat up quickly, trying to see out the windows. She instantly regretted it; not only did she suddenly feel weak and dizzy, but she also saw nothing but deep blue water and passing fish. Either she was hallucinating, or…

"Where are we?" she asked, holding her spinning head as she swayed in her seat. She felt Keitaro's hands reach out to steady her, and decided falling back toward him was better than staying upright at the moment. '_Damn, I must've lost a lot of blood,_' she thought to herself.

"We are in the Pacific Ocean, heading north at the moment," Seta answered from the front seat. "I think I mentioned the submarine converter in the front dash once before, didn't I? Anyway, suffice to say that I had this thing custom built for this sort of craziness."

"You mean, you've done this before?" Keitaro asked, genuinely surprised.

"Lots of times!" Seta said proudly as he finished setting his amphibious machine's autopilot to take them the rest of the way. They were relatively safe, for now; with the sound defeat of their pursuers and the apparent plunge to their own deaths off a cliff, no one would think to give them further chase just yet. It would take a while for them to find all the wrecks and figure out what happened; if any of their pursuers had lived, it would take them even longer to get back on their trail, as they would first have to search the nearby waters to find the remains, or rather the lack thereof. By then, Seta and his passengers would be long gone, securely within what relative safety they had available.

Then, of course, the _real_ fight would begin; for now, though, he needed some rest, and so did his two passengers

Taking off his bulletproof vest and slumping back in his seat, he said, "We should be safe for the time being. Getting from where we were to the water was the hardest bit; these people have a lot of resources, but they have their limits. It'll take them a while for the survivors to regroup and figure out where we've gone, at any rate, long enough for us to get to relative safety. Meantime, we're going to be crawling along down here for a while."

Keitaro looked at his hands in the darkness, which were still wet with Mitsune's blood. So, too, was her shirt, and a fair amount of the cushion next to her. Getting comfortable was the least of his current worries.

"I don't suppose you brought a towel and something to eat, did you?" he asked Seta. "Mitsune lost a fair amount of blood, and even though her arm's healed she's going to need something to eat and drink to help her recover."

"Check behind the extra boxes of ammo. There should be a small cooler with juice and cups in it. As for the towel, I think there's an extra in my bag; I always keep one there just in case; you wouldn't believe how often those things come in handy when you least expect it. Your bags should be wherever you put them back there."

"Hey, Kei," Mitsune said to him as he unbuckled his seatbelt, "Grab an extra shirt out of my bag while you're back there if you can find one in my stuff, would you? I think think this one is pretty well shot…er, no pun intended."

"Alright. You need anything, Seta?"

"Nope, I'm fine, thank you. You'll have to excuse me, though: I need a nap. Driving like that without rolling the van over ten times is _exhausting_." With that, he fell silent, and presently began snoring softly.

Keitaro sighed and shook his head, then carefully picked his way over the back seat after making sure Kitsune was comfortably seated again. As he strained to see, a thought occurred to him. Blinking, he experimentally shifted the focus of his _ki _into his sight; the suit responded immediately to the shift, and when he opened his eyes again he found he could see what he was doing more clearly than before in the now almost nonexistent light. The sight wasn't what he would call a normal sort of vision, either; it was more detailed in certain ways, like he was feeling the details of his surroundings as much as he was seeing them. It reminded him of something he'd once heard about, like a bat's echolocation, only he got the feeling it was more like seeing a reflection of his own _ki _off surfaces rather than sound. Very strange.

He found and retrieved her bag and his own easily this way, along with the juice, some food, and the towel Seta had mentioned. When he returned, he mentally forced himself to stop using his newfound sight boost; to use it as she changed her top, while tempting, was simply too dishonorable a thing for Keitaro to allow himself to do. As she removed her vest and changed her shirt to something _not _covered in her own blood, he moved behind the back seat and changed into the regular clothing he'd worn earlier that day, leaving the suit in a pile in the back. He had to admit to himself that, though it had made him capable of things he'd never have thought possible, it was a relief to be free of its weight and heat for a while. He'd probably have to put it back on sooner or later, but for now it seemed that he'd have a few hours at least to relax without wearing it like a second skin.

Mitsune, meanwhile, found herself half-wishing there was more light to see by. She knew that Keitaro was changing out of his armor behind her, though she could barely see the outline of his head; were she not feeling quite so damn weak at the moment, she might have crawled back and offered to "help" him with the task! As it was, though, she was having enough trouble getting the sticky mess that was her shirt off and changing into something clean before he finished.

Finally, Keitaro returned over the edge of the seat once again, clad in his pants and shirt once more. He left off the shoes, as he realized he didn't really need them at the moment. Mitsune had covered the wet spot on the right hand side of the seats with the towel and sat in the middle, so he sat next to her on the left. As they sipped on the juice (which tasted sweet but oddly dry and sharp, like grape mixed with cranberry, though they couldn't read the label) and munched on some of the sweeter foods he had found (again, it was difficult to tell one from another, though he was pretty sure at least one was a package of chocolate chip cookies), they cuddled closely and comfortably in the back seat together, glad to be alive and safely out of the line of fire. They spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb the man sleeping two rows in front of them.

"So, how'd you get rid of all those other cars and such, anyway? All I can remember is you disappearing on me and strange, loud noises."

Keitaro chuckled, softly. "I don't think you'd believe it all if I told you."

"How so?" she asked, curious.

"If I were to tell you I blasted one off a cliff, hit the second with the first's bike, blew off the tire of the third, fried the fourth's engine, and did something I'm not particularly proud of having done to the one that shot you in the arm like that in about ten seconds, would you believe me?"

She blinked, considering. "Hmmm…that _is _pretty difficult to see, but…yeah, I guess I would believe that, Kei," she said with a smile. "But I'm curious, though: what _did _you do to that bastard that shot me, anyway?"

Keitaro hesitated, suddenly feeling extremely embarrassed by what he had done. All he knew was that he'd have done it again, and that he _still_ wasn't proud of it even then. "I…uh…well…sorta made sure he wouldn't be passing along his genes anytime soon."

Mitsune looked at him confused, then gasped when she realized what he was implying. "Oh, wow, you didn't…"

"Yeah…I did. Dead on, too, from where I was standing. Never heard a guy squeal at that high a pitch before in my life, and never want to hear it again."

She started snickering uncontrollably. "Wow…that's…wow. Do you…wow, damn. You think he survived it?"

"Probably," he admitted, cringing. "I was trying _not _to kill any of them if I could help it, just incapacitate them. I don't know if any of them survived the crashes at the speeds we were going, but there's a chance they did anyway. Aside from the guy on the motorcycle, he was the only one I aimed to hit and the only one I meant to injure specifically. The others I just incapacitated the cars themselves where I could."

"And the motorcycle guy?"

"Blasted him off the edge of a cliff with my shotgun. He was wearing a vest, so I doubt it killed him outright."

"Why give them a chance to live like that? What if they come back?" she asked.

He sighed inaudibly. "Well…at this point, I doubt they'll be in any shape to do so for a while even if they manage to live. Plus…if I can help it, I'd rather not kill anyone on purpose. Don't believe in it. Injury you can live through if you're lucky, and when you recover you get a chance to do something differently, a chance to choose differently, bu you don't get a chance to change anything if you're dead."

She thought about this for a moment. Somehow, he'd managed to face a hailstorm of gunfire and take each one of their pursuers out of commission without purposefully killing _any _of them. She wasn't sure about the guy on the motorcycle (by the sound of it, he'd be lucky to have survived), but when she thought about it the guys Keitaro had hit would _all _have a chance to live. She couldn't be sure, but she knew the few she'd actually hit had been aimed for the men themselves; now that she considered it, every shot Keitaro had taken before the last group had been aimed at the cars themselves. Even Seta had been aiming for the drivers! Keitaro really wasn't kidding when he said he didn't like to kill anyone, and she was amazed he'd managed to find a way to do it all with what sounded like handheld artillery!

"Well, I'm glad you did, Kei. In your place, I'd have probably shot that last one in the head, but you managed to do that without even killing him in the process!"

Keitaro snorted softly to himself. "Well, he'll definitely regret it for the rest of his life, I'm sure."

Feeling tired, Mitsune relaxed herself for a moment against his chest, resting her ear so she could listen to his heart beat and his slow breathing. "You know, Kei-kun, I think that's what I really like about you," she remarked tiredly, feeling her eyelids begin to droop. It was still early, but it had already been a long day and the blood she'd lost had made her woozy enough as it was.

"What's that?" he asked.

"The more I learn about what you can do, the more I think that you're suddenly going to be different somehow, yet…you aren't. It's strange, you know? There's stuff you can do that would scare me, if you were anyone else, but not you."

Confused, he asked, "What do you mean?"

She thought about it a moment, trying to find a way to express it. "It's kind of like…when you first came around, we all thought you were just some sort of bumbling pervert or something, but you turned out to be a really gentle-hearted and noble guy, you know? Clumsy, sure, but your heart's always in the right place. Then I find out you can do a lot more than you let on, like fighting and stuff; most people I've met like that are all stuck up about it, like Motoko, or don't control it well, like Naru, but you ended up being just the way you always were: a nice, honorable guy. And the more I find out, the more I realize you still are that way, in spite of it all. I really like that about you, Kei."

He smiled. "I'm…glad you think so, Kitsu-chan," he said softly.

He heard her giggle. "I'll tell you something else, too," she added.

"What?"

"Right now, I…I think you make a nice pillow, Kei-kun."

He smiled again, holding her gently and stroking her hair as she began to fall asleep against his chest. As he, too, began to succumb to the gentle sounds of water flowing past them, his girlfriend's warm body curled up against him, and the aftereffects of their stressful experience that day, he thought that she made a nice blanket, herself.

**********

Hours later, Seta awoke to the sound of the autopilot pinging. Opening his eyes, he checked the only source of light in the vehicle (the lightly glowing instrument panel) and found out they were about ten minutes away from arrival.

Yawning deeply, he turned to check on his passengers in the back seat. Though it was still too dark to see well at all, he could still see their peacefully sleeping silhouettes in the back. He grinned sideways; they sort of reminded him of himself and someone he was looking forward to seeing again quite soon.

Still, there would be time for them to be together again later, and time for Keitaro and Kitsune as well. The autopilot shifted their course to match their final approach, sending a gentle vibration through the van. His passengers blinked and awoke, taking a moment to get their bearings.

"Good morning…or evening, or night…I'm not really sure which at the moment," Seta commented, lighting up his watch. The dial read 11:28 pm. "Ah! Good night…but don't go back to sleep just yet!"

He heard them groan. "Why not?" Mitsune complained?

"We're going to be there in a few minutes."

Yawning, Keitaro asked, "I forget, where exactly were we going, again?"

Seta just chuckled. "Don't worry, you didn't forget, Urashima-san; I haven't told you yet. We are going to the main base of operations, so-to-speak. If all has gone better than it has for us, everyone should be there by now."

"Who?" Mitsune asked, suddenly curious.

"Oh, you'll see," Seta said. "Can't go spoiling the surprise just yet, can I? Besides, I think it's a bit late for the full grand tour of the place tonight. Unless I'm mistaken, that'll wait 'till morning."

Keitaro and Kitsune looked at each other, questioningly, then back at Seta.

"Anyway," he continued, "There's a few things we'll need to do before we get in there. Keitaro, I'd suggest you get changed back into that armor for now. You won't be needing it just yet, but it'll be best that you have it on while you're moving about from now on. Our welcoming party will want to see you in it for sure. Don't worry, you won't have to wear it for too long; we'll only be up long enough for you to get acquainted, then I'll make sure you two get your own room for the time being."

He turned back toward the front, imagining how many shades of red they would turn when they realized…

"W-wait a sec…did you just say…room? As in singular?" asked Keitaro, somewhere between nervousness and excitement. After the previous night, both he _and _Kitsune weren't about to say no, but…

"Yep. I'm afraid the accommodations won't be quite as nice or as spacious as they were at my place, so you two are just going to _have_ to share a room. It's a rule there, after all: those that _can_ share a room together in a crisis like this will do so, no exceptions. There simply_ isn't_ enough room for everyone otherwise."

'_I'll bet its deep scarlet and maroon,_' he thought to himself with a chuckle as he began gathering his gear together again.

In truth, he wasn't very far off the mark.

Ten minutes later, Keitaro was scraping off the remaining dried blood off of his armored gauntlets (a task that turned out to be considerably easier than he thought it would be, due to the odd nature of its materials) when they felt the whole vehicle slow down. In front of them, a few dim guidelights appeared leading up to a sheer rocky sea wall in front of them. A large set of doors opened in front of them, appearing like hidden jaws in the rock. Seta guided the vehicle the rest of the way into the opening slowly; once inside, they heard the muffled rumble of the mechanical maw slowly sliding shut with a distant-sounding crunch behind them.

Immediately, bright lights flickered on one after another outside, all but blinding them as their dark-acclimated eyes struggled to adjust. When their eyesight had adapted again, they found themselves in a small, water-filled chamber that was somewhat taller and wider than the van itself. Somewhere along the floor and ceiling, vents opened both above and beneath them, and air was pumped in as the water was drained out. Seta flicked a few switches on the dash as the water level fell around them, and the van converted back to its normal form once again, tires settling on metal plating as the water poured and dripped off the sides. In front of them, a second set of thick doors opened, leading to a long, gently sloping tunnel.

"What is this place?" Keitaro asked as Seta began driving through.

"You mean what _is _it, or what is it's _name?_" Seta questioned him.

"Both." Mitsune clarified for him, before he could respond.

"Figured. In that case, it's the largest and perhaps the strongest privately-owned fortress in Japan. It has about a dozen entrances, but I only know of the exact whereabouts of two or three of them from the outside, but each entrance connects to a long tunnel like the one we are in right now. This is the only one that comes from in from the sea, I think: the rest lead in from the surface. As for its name…well, even I'm not allowed to tell you. Only the leader is, and only in person."

"Why so secret?" Keitaro asked.

"Because," Seta replied, "the very fact that this place _exists_ is a secret, and a well-kept one at that. It won't be much longer, unfortunately, but up to this point it has been. Don't worry, you'll learn all you need to know about it before lunchtime tomorrow."

A minute later, they emerged from the tunnel into what looked like a massive car park. Keitaro blinked, looking at the many vehicles filling the cavernous space around them. "Umm…just how _many_ people are we going to have to meet, anyway?"

Seta laughed. "Oh, just a few tonight. I'd imagine most are asleep by now, so it's going to be whomever's still up running shop. If I had to take a stab at who that would be, I'd guess it would be the security forces."

They parked in the only space they could find open, probably the only one left in the whole complex. Getting out and stretching, Seta lit a cigarette and began unloading his bags and equipment. He told his passengers to do the same when he finished, and went to retrieve a cart to carry it all.

Mitsune, still looking slightly pale but otherwise steady on her feet once more, decided to look around a bit at the cars around them. A few of the cars looked fairly well-worn, with signs of battles both old and new decorating their surfaces. "Boy, some of these cars look more scarred up than you do, Keitaro," she commented.

"Yeah, all except this one," he replied, pointing at the van. She glanced back and did a double take: in spite of the complete change of windows (which were tinted slightly and looked thicker than the old ones, she noted), there were no bullet holes to be seen anywhere, very few dings and scratches, not even much missing paint!

"Wow, this thing really _is_ almost indestructible, isn't it?" she whistled.

"Yep!" said Seta, as he returned with the cart in tow. "They actually forced me to use this one after my first year doing field work. Said it would be better that I use something that wouldn't get destroyed all the time, like the last three I had. Or four." The man looked slightly embarrassed by the admission.

Mitsune and Keitaro both gave each other a look.

"Anyway," Seta said, changing the subject and indicating the cart he'd brought, "we'd better load this thing up. It'll be a long way to walk with all this stuff as it is."

Indeed, it was a long walk. Keitaro got the job of pushing the cart most of the way; Seta had insisted they bring _everything_, and between the bags, the boxes of lead-filled ammo and explosives, the hundred-pound axe (Keitaro had decided to bring it at the last minute, feeling an odd sort of affinity for the ungainly thing he couldn't yet explain), and several other packages Seta had brought (including a few important artifacts he hadn't wanted to risk leaving behind), it weighed almost half a ton. Since Keitaro was wearing his armor, it was little more difficult for him to push and maneuver than pushing a heavy shopping cart would have been for him normally.

After walking the length of a city block, they spotted what looked like a large, iron-doored gateway. Seta explained it was a cargo elevator, good for carrying heavy loads and large groups of people. To their surprise, before they were within fifty feet of it the oversized doors slid open, revealing a very full interior. Almost immediately, several dozen heavily armed men and women in oddly-designed riot gear quickly filed out, fanning out in all directions. Moving quickly and efficiently, they split into squads of six apiece, each group moving down separate lines of cars. Each one they could see had some form of modern-looking armored helm with mirrored visors covering their faces; they were equipped with a combination of modern and more traditional weapons of every kind imaginable, from pistols and assault rifles to rocket launchers and from knives and nightsticks to swords and polearms. Each was unique, seemingly hand-picked to fit an individual's personal style and preference, yet all worked together seamlessly as well as any trained unit would.

Of the last groups to emerge, two quickly approached the three of them in straight lines. The lead guard of each converged and halted behind them, facing the opposite direction the three had been heading a moment earlier, guns drawn and ready; the next four on each side similarly faced outward in twos, guns ready and scanning outward in four more directions. The last two of both lines converged in front of their cart, facing them and completing the last side of a human hexagon. Their uniforms were slightly more formal, and the tallest of the two wore what appeared to be a _hakama _in addition to the other gear.

Instinctively, Keitaro's stance shifted, hands ready to draw weapons if needed; Seta, however, put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head calmly. Mitsune backed over to where her boyfriend stood, eyes wide and wary. Aside from the two in front of them, the two squads were forming a defensive circle around them; still, after being shot once already she wasn't about to let her guard down so easily!

The two in front were apparently the heads of both squads. The shorter of the two on the left carried a long, folded iron fan at the hip and a sniper rifle on the back; the taller had only a long, prominently worn _katana_. These two faced them and looked them over quickly, as though confirming something. The taller looked at the other, who nodded once quickly. Evidently satisfied, the sword bearer pressed a button on what was evidently a helmet radio, speaking quickly in a muffled feminine voice. "All teams, all teams, Foehammer has landed. Seal all rabbit holes and check for gremlins. That is all."

Releasing the transmitter button, she looked at Seta. "Were there any followers, Noriyasu-san?"

"Twelve on the road, all incapacitated before we left it. None whatsoever after that," Seta answered immediately. Keitaro glanced at him in surprise, then back to the woman in uniform.

"Any injured?" she asked.

"One graze wound," he nodded in Mitsune's direction, "but it's been taken care of already by him." He indicated Keitaro. "Oh, and I could use fresh windows and mirrors, if there are any spares."

"Good, then all has gone as well as can be hoped for," the woman said, and Keitaro saw both her and her colleague next to her visibly sigh in relief. The woman removed her helmet first, letting a large amount of long, mostly straight black hair fall out. Keitaro blinked in surprise: she looked very much like an older version of Motoko!

"Greetings, Urashima-san. I am Tsuruko Aoyama, sister of one of your tenants. We have been expecting you."

Keitaro's brain registered her name, and remembered what he knew of it from Motoko. Tsuruko, he'd heard, was a master of the _Shinmei-ryu _school of martial arts, a source of both great respect and well-founded fear for Motoko. Though he hadn't yet met the woman, her skill with the sword was (according to her younger sister) unmatched among the art's practitioners. By the prominent way she wore her blade on her hip, he knew better than to cross such a woman lightly. "It is an honor to meet the sister spoken so highly of by Motoko at last, Aoyama-san."

She bowed. "The honor is mine to meet you, Urashima-san. We have been waiting for your arrival since my sister and your remaining tenants arrived last evening."

"W-what? They're here?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"Of course they're here, where else would they be? I brought them myself," the other said testily as she removed her helmet.

"Haruka!?" both Keitaro and Mitsune exclaimed, recognizing her instantly.

"Good to see you alive and healthy again, kids," Haruka said with a smirk. "They're all here, safe and sound. We left shortly after you did."

"Oh, that's…that's great," said Keitaro sounding a little less than enthusiastic. Mitsune's shoulders slumped slightly as well. Noting this, Haruka added quietly, "Don't worry, I've already grilled them about their treatment of you, and made sure their quarters are nowhere near yours for the time being. They should all be asleep by now, so I wouldn't worry about them just yet."

Their faces brightened. "Thanks, Haruka," Keitaro said gratefully.

"Don't thank me yet! They still don't know you're a couple, not officially," Haruka remarked. "I should give you a word of warning, though: they've seen some sort of surveillance tape of that bus accident a few days ago. I've explained what's going on, and they've seen enough here to know it's for real. How they handle it from here is anyone's guess, though. Just be forewarned."

Keitaro nodded. "I figured as much."

"Still, I think you'll be better able to handle that here than at the Hinata," Haruka remarked, as the group began to move toward the elevator together. Several of the squad members took over pushing the cart for Keitaro, so they were free to talk as they went.

"How so?" he asked.

Haruka just smirked. "I think you know the answer to that well enough by now, Kei. Quite frankly, the deck's stacked in your favor like no one else I know of right now."

They reached the elevator momentarily, and Tsuruko keyed in a long number to open it once more. Keitaro and Mitsune joined the cart and Tsuruko's squad on the lift, while Seta and Haruka's squad remained. "We'll wait for the next ride," Haruka stated, much to Keitaro's general confusion. After all, there _was_ still quite a bit of room left on the lift, and it didn't make sense to him that she'd just break away like that so soon after they'd arrived.

Tsuruko, however, just nodded in acknowledgement. "Alright. Make sure the other squads all report back in after finishing the lockdown, then engage the lift's lockdown for the night. Everyone should be here now; we don't want any visitors just yet. See you two in the morning." With that, the doors shut fully, and the lift began its slow descent.

Haruka turned to the remaining squad. "Alright, you heard the woman: help the other squads finish the area sweep, and report back with them in ten minutes. We shouldn't have any problems yet, but don't leave it to chance."

"Yes, Ma'am!" the five of them said, and marched swiftly away. When they were out of sight, she immediately smacked Seta in the back of the head. "Dammit all, what took you so long!? You had me worried sick!" she chastised him, half a moment before embracing him.

"I'm alright, we're all alright. Just a bit of over-the-top road rage we had to deal with. I ended up having to hop in the water sooner than I wanted to, so it took a bit longer to get here than I'd hoped for," he replied, trying to sound reassuring.

She pulled away, looking at him. "Are you really okay? Please don't be just saying that."

He grinned brightly. "Not a scratch on me! Although I think I need to reupholster some of my seats; they got pretty chewed up around the edges, and there might be a bit of a blood stain on one of the back seats."

She looked at him questioningly. "How badly was she hit, anyway?" she asked. "I didn't see any obvious bandages."

"Badly enough. It would have been worse, but Keitaro figured out that he could use the suit to heal her. Far as I know, it worked perfectly, too. I'll tell you something, though: that boy can fight when he's put to it! He took the last five on his own in ten seconds flat, even made the one that shot her into a eunuch."

Haruka raised an eyebrow. "Any of _them_ still alive?"

"If they survived the crashes, maybe. We were going pretty fast. I think the one he castrated with a .50 caliber bullet was the only one he aimed for specifically to injure; the rest, it seems, he aimed to take out their cars instead. I think the only ones that died for sure were the ones I nailed; the rest are anyone's guess."

Haruka let out her breath. "Well, looks like we were right about him. You gave the kid enough firepower to blow a legion to kingdom come with, suit or no suit, and he _still_ tries not to kill anyone with it."

"I'm just surprised at how well he handled those things! The recoil alone turned me off to that handgun he's using a long time ago, and he barely even flinched with it. You should've seen what he did! I only wish I'd been able to watch it all without crashing."

Haruka chuckled, looking at her watch. They still had six minutes alone together. Seta noted the move, and raised an eyebrow. "Aw, don't tell me I'm boring you already!" he teasingly moped.

She looked at him, somewhere between amused and irked. "Of all the things you've ever done to me, Seta, _boring_ me isn't one of them, I assure you."

He grinned. "So, you _did_ miss me, huh?"

She frowned. "I'll wait on answering that one fully 'till later, _baka_," she told him testily. Seeing his hurt expression, she sighed and shook her head in exasperation. She then kissed him deeply, taking him a bit by surprise.

"Just consider _that_ to be part of the answer for now," she told him.

**********

"So…what is this place, exactly?" Keitaro asked as the lift continued it's descent.

Tsuruko looked at him questioningly. "Don't you already know?"

"Not really," Mitsune said, looking at her. "We kinda stumbled into this whole thing by accident; we're not even sure why we're here, or where _here _is, past the fact that it has something to do with Kei's new rock-hard threads." She indicated his armor.

Tsuruko suppressed a bemused smile. "That will change by tomorrow. Suffice it to say this: we're in an underground fortress built to sustain a large group of people self-sufficiently for an extended period of time. It was originally intended to be a sort of fallout shelter the size of a small town, but its usefulness didn't stop at that. The people we'll be dealing with in the coming days have been active for quite a long time, and so have we."

Keitaro glanced over, a dark look on his face. "In that case, I hope you guys know more about what I'm supposed to do with this thing than I do! I've only had it since this afternoon, and so far I've been whisked away to parts unknown for the second time in three days, shot at repeatedly by people I don't even know, and had to save the life of someone I really, _really_ don't want to get killed on my account for the third time in less than a week! I don't know who made this thing, or why they made it or where it was found, but if it's going to keep bringing those I care about into harm's way all the time like that, then I need to find out what to do with it, and fast. The sooner I can get everything settled and safe again, the sooner I can get rid of it in good conscience, 'cause I really don't want to keep it."

Tsuruko looked at him in wonder. The sheer power of his personal _ki _caused the suit to almost hum with energy; the sudden spike in his emotional state as he spoke had made it all but throb with fresh power. At any time, she realized, he could easily unleash a force of devastation unmatched by anything she'd ever seen or experienced without breaking so much as a sweat in the process; yet even now, even here, she sensed that this was precisely the _last _thing he wanted to do. Indeed, he was the ideal person to be using it: the rare combination of power and self-control so many had strived and failed to attain was practically intrinsic to who he was from the start.

"Fear not, Urashima-san," she said, "you shall not have to bear your burden for very long. It has taken much time, but the moment we have prepared for and against is now almost upon us. It will not last long, for better or worse."

The elevator came to a stop, and the doors slid open to the now dimly illuminated main chamber. Like his tenants before him, Keitaro gazed in wonder at the vast armored complex as they stepped off the lift. In spite of it's size, there were far fewer people about than he might have expected, at least until he remembered how late at night it now was. Glancing at his watch, he discovered it was nearly midnight.

Tsuruko, meanwhile, ordered two of her squad members to escort Keitaro and Kitsune with their gear to their room for the night. Their room, as it turned out, was little more than a small nook in the wall, big enough to hold a slightly bigger-than-average bed, a clock on a small stand, and a very small closet to dump their belongings into. The bedding itself was comfortable enough, but it was about the furthest extent of the room's accommodations.

Mitsune, at any rate, didn't seem to mind too much. Though they were both a little tired, they'd already slept for several hours. As such, they took their time getting ready for their rest. Mitsune left for a moment to check on where the remainder of their belongings were going to be kept and to make sure someone got Seta's bags to him before he turned in for the night. Keitaro took the opportunity to change in privacy. He carefully removed and secured his armor once again, then took stock of his remaining clean clothing. He still had a couple good outfits to work with, but he quickly discovered he had little to wear for the night. He suddenly wished he'd thought to bring more pajamas with him; all he really had left was a backup thin, light white t-shirt with a wide collar that was about a size too small for him and a pair of boxer shorts. Donning these, he looked himself over gloomily. Sure, he could probably get away with wearing this if he was on his own, but he doubted he could get away with walking around outside in it. Mitsune, of old, might've set him up for disaster if she had found him wearing as much at the Hinata, though he doubted she'd do that now. Granted, they weren't at the Hinata at the moment, but with the rest of his tenants somewhere nearby and him sharing a room with Kitsune, he felt almost as if he should just paint a few large concentric red circles on his shirt and be done with it.

He shook his head, trying to clear it. He _had _to look at the positive, or he'd be a nervous wreck in no time. They didn't necessarily know they were here yet, so they'd have at least a little privacy together for the moment. If he was lucky, they'd be able to smooth things over with the others tomorrow.

Of course, he'd have to be _really _lucky for that to happen.

His eyes darted toward the door, which was shut but not locked. It seemed to have a thick, metal construction, as did many of the walls. While Kitsune was away, he'd have to leave it like that until she returned; maybe she'd let him lock it for the night when she'd changed herself. Unfortunately, when he thought of her changing in the same room, he realized he'd have to leave wearing nothing but glorified underwear in a building with not only his entire roster of tenants somewhere about the place, but also several hundred well-trained, well-armed men and women behind every door in sight! He suddenly considered putting his clothes back on, and fast.

But it was not to be. Mitsune arrived a moment later, leaving the door wide open behind her; startled, he sprawled quickly for a bedsheet in embarrassment. Before he could wonder about what to say or do to prevent what seemed to him to be a perfect storm of bad luck from overtaking him once again, Mitsune smiled at him nonchalantly and began to talk. "Well, that's that settled. I ran into Haruka again on the way; she said she knew where Seta was staying for the night and took his bags for me. Everything else is in a locker area a little ways down the hall that way," she said, indicating with her hand without looking as she went over to her own bag, "and they gave me a key for it. It's number…uh…42, I think." She checked a tagged key in her pocket. "Yeah, that's it. It's on the key, too, if we forget, so that's good."

At this point, she noted the embarrassed look on Keitaro's face, and noted the neat pile of armor in the corner of the room. "Oh! Sorry, I hope I didn't catch you in mid-change, did I?" she apologized, realizing what the source of his deepening blush might be and shutting the door.

"Umm, no, I've…already changed, but…I'm not exactly wearing all _that _much to safely go parading down the halls." He pulled enough of the edge of his covering aside for her to see his attire. "I…uh…seem to have forgotten to bring more pajamas, and the ones I have with me are already used, so…" He shrugged nervously. "this is what I had left."

She looked at him in puzzlement. "What's wrong with that?" she asked. Grinning impishly, she added, "_I _don't mind it at all! In fact, I think I actually kind of _prefer _you dressed down." A hint of a foxlike gleam entered her eyes, similar to one she'd worn in the past when she was up to teasing him mercilessly but entirely different in its intent. Keitaro's expression changed from embarrassment to surprise, confusion, barely concealed desire, then guilt and growing fear, all within the span of about two seconds to a deepening crimpson across his face.

She burst into giggling. "Don't worry, I won't chase you around out in the halls…unless you _want _me to, that is."

"No! That's fine, I'll stay here, thank you," he said hurriedly with terror in his voice.

She smiled at him warmly. "Good. Then, I'll be right back." Pulling something from her pack that he couldn't see, she departed for a nearby restroom. Keitaro sighed in relief when he realized what she was doing; he hadn't thought of that.

In a shower stall in the bathroom, Mitsune began to slowly change into her chosen nighttime attire. It was one of her favorites, one she rarely got to wear. She was quite alone in both hallway and bathroom, though she'd brought a thin robe of the same material and pattern just to be on the safe side. What she wore underneath, she intended for Keitaro's eyes alone.

As she changed, she took a moment to examine her shoulder in the better light. It was stillslightly sore, like a combination of a bruise and a sore muscle, yet it had indeed healed faster and better than any wound she'd ever had. What had been a gash two inches long and almost half an inch wide and deep was now a small band of freshly grown flesh and light scar tissue, a bit pinker than the surrounding area but not as permanent-looking or ugly as she feared it might have been. She rubbed it softly, thinking again of what it had been like. The pain of it had scared her initially, though compared with the spike during the fast heal it hadn't been so bad. She shuddered to herself, thinking of how many times Keitaro had done the exact same thing to his own wounds. It was like she had taken a small taste of a poison he'd been consuming by the bottleful almost every day for over a year, a poison she knew he'd desperately wanted to prevent any of them from ever having to take on his behalf. She could well understand how he felt now, and though she knew she hadn't been the one to figuratively force him to drink it, she still felt incredible guilt for having so frequently filled his cup.

Tying shut the kimono-like robe, she felt resolved to help him like never before. In the next few days, she knew, anything could happen; by the looks of things, there would be deadly serious fighting with him at the very center of it. Anything could happen, including either or both of them getting hurt or killed, not to mention everyone else around them. It scared her deeply to think they might not live much longer, fervent though her hope was that they all would survive. She knew he would willingly die to protect them, to protect her.

But she did not want him to die. She wanted him alive and well, so she could stick by his side. Somehow, she thought, she had to convince him not to throw his life away too willingly.

She had to convince him to stay alive, for her if not for himself. That was the only way she could think of to help him now. He could do the fighting and the saving, she didn't need to help him with that. What she _did _need to help him with was taking care of the one person he so often forgot to take into account, the only one he readily chose to ignore the needs and wants, pains, and saftety of: himself.

Keitaro, meanwhile, was deep in thought. Tomorrow, he knew, he'd be facing a great number of trials and difficulties. Saving the world, or defeating evil or whatever the hell it was he was going to be facing, was only one problem on his plate, and it was going to be hard enough just figuring out how to do that. He decided he'd worry about it more when he came to it; all he knew now was that he'd be fighting like mad, and he would have to rely on skill and discernment to deal with that. More pressing in his mind was how he was going to fully break the news to his other tenants that he was now close enough to Kitsune to be dating her, even sleeping in the same room with her, at least without them freaking out and killing him (or her, or both of them) in the process. Truthfully speaking, he probably deserved as much for not telling them sooner, for skipping out on them days earlier like he had, and for any number of other reasons he could think of. But what could he do? Defend himself? To his mind, it wasn't an option. The only way he could do such a thing without directly risking doing any harm to them was through _aikido_, the only martial art that would match anything they threw in his direction and allow him to defuse their attacks harmlessly. Yet good though he was at the art, he did not trust himself to stick to it and it alone; there were, after all, a number of martial art forms he had become skilled in, and he had a tendency to call upon all of them in battle as he needed. Even within the discipline itself, there was plenty of room for error: a simple throw, done slightly differently, could dislocate a shoulder or break bones if he wasn't careful. Much of the art, after all, was based off an older form called _aikijutsu_, the deadly and brutally effective form of unarmed combat a samurai would use if he was weaponless.

Deep down, Keitaro knew he would be able to pull it off if he had to, and likely pull it off easily. Yet even though the risk was minute, he still did not want it to come to that if he could help it. Many times in the past, he had accepted personal injury as payment for his unwillingness to take that risk. He didn't like enduring the pain, granted, but what if he hurt one of them? They were his friends, his responsibility. If he hurt one of them…he'd never be able to forgive himself.

Now, it seemed, he wasn't going to have a choice but to risk it anyway. If one of them attacked him and he did nothing about it, someone else might do something about it for him. They were, after all, now sitting in a private base full of clearly well-trained, fully-armed personnel that might not be so kind to someone attacking him. What if one of them got shot for attacking him? Then he wouldn't be just risking their harm, but indirectly risking their lives as well. He could prevent it by defending himself, but even without a choice he was loathe to do such a thing.

He heard the doorknob turning, and looked up in time to see a barefoot Mitsune slip into the room, wearing a silky robe with an intricate pattern of deep red and violet across its surface. The robe ended at about her knee, and showed nothing of whatever else lay underneath. The sight was enough to drive all other worries and considerations from his mind for a moment, replacing it with sheer dumfounded amazement. She smiled at him, quietly shutting the door behind her and latching its lock with a wink. "Don't ogle until you've seen the best part, Kei-kun" she chided almost seductively, her hand loosening the strap holding the robe shut right before his widening eyes.

In what felt like slow motion, Keitaro watched the folds of the robe fall away, dropping off her shoulders, down her arms, and settling around her feet. A small, generously curved nightgown, made of a much thinner version of the same silken material as the robe, revealed itself before his eyes. Thin straps of material held the garment in place at the shoulders, though only just; as she turned to show it off, he saw that the back was cut in a deep, curved V almost down to the base of her spine, while the front plunged to her navel, held in place and shape by a thin triangular band of semitransparent material that ended just below her bust.

"…wow," was all he managed to say as all further conscious thought in his brain went on hold and stayed there.

She beamed at him. "Thought you'd like it," she said, enjoying his reaction. "It's the last one I brought, too, come to think of it." She looked slyly in his direction. "Let's just hope they didn't think to put in any washing machines."

"Huh?" he inquired, the comment taking him completely off-guard.

"Think about it for a minute," she prompted with a grin.

With some difficulty, he forced his mind to work again. If there were no washing machines, they'd need more clothes to wear; by the looks of things, that meant either re-wearing dirty laundry, borrowing more, or else…

Suddenly, he got what she was saying, and his nose began to drip crimpson.

She was now grinning from ear to ear, giggling uncontrollable. "My thoughts exactly," she said, handing him a paper towel she'd plucked from a dispenser in the bathroom for his nose. A thought occurred to her suddenly as she watched him try to contain the bleed. "Hey, Keitaro…I've just had an idea."

"Whatsh thaat?" he asked.

"If you can heal your own injuries, do you think it would work on a nosebleed?"

He paused, considering. Remarkably, he'd never thought of it before. He felt like slapping his own forehead; of _course _he could heal a nosebleed! After all, what was a couple tiny ruptured blood vessels compared to fixing bone-deep cuts? He decided to give it a try.

The pain of healing his nasal cavities, it turned out, wasn't as bad as he'd thought it would be.

It was about ten times worse.

"_Gyeearrahhaghaaaooow!!_" he cried, as the many weak and broken vessels in his sinuses repaired and strengthened themselves substantially to the tune of what felt like a hundred electrified ice picks being driven through his nostril all at once.

The bleeding stopped completely. "Holy shit, that hurt," he said, shaking his head in surprise.

Mitsune, shocked by the unexpected severity of the procedure, meekly said, "Sorry! Didn't mean for it to hurt you so bad!"

"Nah, don't worry about it, I'm okay," he assured her, rubbing his nose. "Just didn't expect it to be all _that _bad. Wasn't ready for it, that's all."

In spite of the pain, however, he could tell it had made a huge difference already. His nose no longer felt ready to burst anew; even without seeing it, he could feel renewed strength in the delicate tissues, like someone had reinforced the cracks of a dam to be stronger than ever before.

Now, even the thought of possibly having a legitimate excuse to sleep naked with his girlfriend in a day's time didn't cause anything to spontaneously burst.

She kissed him almost immediately, briefly but with feeling. As she pulled away, she commented, "I'll tell you one thing, Kei."

"What's that?" he asked, his brain struggling for focus once more.

"I was beginning to think I'd never get to wear this for anyone."

Confused, he asked, "Why's that?"

"Well…I guess I never really believed there was anyone worth wearing it _for_. I mean, granted, I suppose _any _guy would love seeing me in it, but I never got close enough to any for it to be worth it." She looked at her hands, which lay in her lap. "Stange, isn't it? I, Kitsune the openly flirtatious, have never had that close of a relationship with anyone before now. I've had boyfriends, sure, but I was usually in it for myself, and always assumed they were, too. And they often were. It never lasted very long, if at all. Usually, I'd stay long enough to get free drinks, or con something else out of a guy, and that would be the end of it. I always figured, 'Hey, no real harm done, nobody cares, what the hell?' and never looked back.

"And then you came along. I tried the same thing I always had, and instead of staying mad you forgave me outright. I teased you for fun, even got you in trouble, and yet you didn't go anywhere or condemn me for it. At first, I thought you were just being nice; it took me a while before I began to realize you weren't really like them, or like the way I thought I should be. Most guys I know would've left after a week at the most of that kind of treatment, or have just dropped over dead in a month. But you didn't. I won't lie to you: I actually started to like you months ago because of that, because you were always kind, always generous. But even then, I believed I didn't stand a chance at getting involved with you for very long. I'd screw it up, I thought, as I always had, and end up alone again anyway."

Keitaro sighed and chuckled. "I don't do that. Not if I can help it."

"I know," she said, "and that's what scares me."

"Why?"

"Because now I don't wanna lose you, but I don't know if I can keep you from losing _yourself_. I thought it would be okay, you know? You were tired, almost dropping over dead, but I knew that was something that could be fixed, that we could do something about it and make it so you could survive and not live under so much attack like that. We could work things out with the others, so we could eventually spend our time together without so much fear. But now, you're facing something I can't do anything about, something bigger than both of us. If not for you, it might've been the end of me several times over, and for all I know it's _still _going to be the end of you, me, and everyone else!" Her eyes stared at the pile of organometallic relics in the corner, a look of dread in her eyes. "What if I lose you? What if you lose me? I…I don't know what I'd do, and it scares me. And yet…I'm going to help you face it. No matter what ends up happening…I want to be at your side, and face it with you. Does that make sense?"

Keitaro nodded, drawing her into a hug. "It does. Mitsune…thank you."

For a moment, they sat there in each others arms, just holding one another. Mitsune felt close to him now as she had never felt before; it was as though a deep part of her soul, a part she had always known of herself but never considered, had been laid bare before him, revealed in its own way by virtue of his very nature. It was a part of her that she herself had only begun to understand, a part she'd almost lost to the machinations and assumptions of her nature; it was something she now desperately and fiercely wanted to protect, and nurture, and grow, and now feared she'd somehow lose to forces beyond her control.

And he, Keitaro Urashima, a man she had once put through all kinds of hell, had seen this part of her and accepted it with open arms the same way he had accepted the rest of her.

For the first time, she felt that she could accept herself the same way.

"Mitsune…what do you think scares me the most?" he asked her presently.

Slightly taken aback by the question, she gave it some thought. "I'm…not really sure. I know you've got plenty to be afraid _of_."

"Such as…?"

"Well...for example, getting hurt or killed, or having someone you care about getting hurt or killed like I am…" she listed off, then added with a bit of a smirk, "…or maybe getting caught doing…certain _activities_…with someone, say, in this room, and being grilled and reamed by someone who _isn't _in this room that would take exception to you doing it?" He blushed at her teasing, but shook his head.

"No; believe it or not, none of that really scares me very much at all. It does, but not as much as you'd think. Somehow, I get the feeling we _will _all survive this, even if I'm afraid that we won't; call it a gut instinct, but I'm more than willing to believe in it. I do not fear death, either, not as much as most people do. I'm afraid of my friends dying, but even then there's always something I can do to prevent that, as you well know by now. And although I certainly don't like the consequences of my own ineptitude around the Hinata, it doesn't really scare me very much at all anymore."

Mitsune scratched her head. "Alright, if the biggies don't bug you, then what does?" she asked, now quite curious.

He closed his eyes. "The one thing I fear most…more than dying, more than loss, more than most anything…is myself."

She looked at him with a thoroughly confused expression. "Huh!?"

He frowned slightly again, eyes focused somewhere on the ground in front of his feet. "Ever since I was little, I knew that there were things I could do that most people could not. I discovered how to heal myself by accident when I was five. When I was eight, I was attacked by a bully twice my size; he hit me hard enough to break my nose, but when I got angry and struck him back…I ended up nearly killing him. He never admitted that it had happened, said a car had hit him and sped away. He forgave me for it, privately, later on, but…I never really forgave myself.

"Since then, I've known that what I do and how I do it directly affects the people around me, and that I had to be extremely careful so as not to hurt someone like that. I could heal myself; others couldn't. Now, when I have to fight, it's only when I have no other choice; even then, the thought that I might have found a different way, that I might have done something differently so I didn't have to hurt someone, haunts me. It's one thing when it's someone I don't have a choice with: those men chasing us today, or those muggers that tried to get you. At the very least, I can forgive myself if I don't purposefully kill them outright. It's a whole different ball of wax when it's someone I care about, someone I'd rather not harm in the slightest. I want to believe I can keep myself from hurting them."

"Is that…why you'd get yourself hurt, rather than defend yourself?"

He nodded. "Normally, I can do that. Granted, I've learned now that I can't just throw my own life away and get away with it, either. You've taught me that much already; even if I can bear a lot of the burden of pain, I have to mind my own limits or risk hurting those I care about by dying on them."

"You've got that right, and don't you forget it!" she agreed.

He sighed, and chuckled. "Still…I don't think I have that choice now."

"How so?"

"Sometime tomorrow, we're going to have to tell everyone about us. What scares me is that they might go after you, as well as me. What then? And what if they go after me, and the people around here take exception to it and attack them? My only choice would be to try and stop them without hurting them, and while I _can _do that, I'm still risking hurting them in the process. It'll be even harder to do, too, because I'll be wearing that armor, and I'm not used to it yet. It's hard enough normally, let alone wearing something that makes me several times stronger! And what if I'm just not thinking of a way that _doesn't _get anyone hurt, and I don't think of it until afterword? I…I'm scared of what I'll do, and yet…in the end, I know I'll do what I can to protect whomever I can, and you most of all."

She moved over closer to him to wrap her arm around his shoulders. "Kei-kun, listen to me…whatever you do tomorrow…I trust you. Whatever choice you end up making, or whatever you end up being forced into doing, I won't condemn you for it, right or wrong. If it doesn't work out all that great, I know it isn't your fault. I think it says a lot that you'd try so hard to find a way, even if you don't end up finding one. There might not _be _one, and if you can't think of one by now then I really doubt anyone else will, right? I know that you'll choose better than anyone, and I'll stand by whatever you choose."

He looked up at her in surprise. "You mean that?"

"Definitely!" she said with a warm smile. "Hell, Kei, for all they've put you through, they probably deserve whatever they get a thousand times over anyway. I know you don't like that and it's not in your nature, and it makes me really mad that you'd be forced into doing something against what you believe in like this, but…you're no idiot, pervert, or anything else they've ever called you, and one way or another the record needs to be set straight. No matter what you do, I know you will do what's right, and I'll help you any way I can. So do me a favor, and don't beat yourself up over it anymore, okay? Give yourself a break…for me?"

He nodded, slowly letting out a breath. He couldn't describe why, but…to hear her say that, to have her understand his deepest fear without condemnation, to accept him like that…it did something inside him, in his heart of hearts, that gave him fresh resolve. For the first time in ages, he felt a burden lift that had hung on his very being so long, he had forgotten it was there. "…okay. I will."

His lips met hers, beginning a kiss like none they'd ever shared. It was as though the remaining barriers between them had begun to crumble away, revealing their deepest, innermost selves to one another as never before. Gone were the preconceptions, the fears, the isolation they had once felt. For the first time, they truly began to understand one another in a way they had never understood themselves, to see and accept the hidden truths that defined who they were. Keitaro was no longer kissing Kitsune, the carefree flirtatious Fox: he was kissing Mitsune Konno, the woman who had gone against her own nature to risk opening her heart to him. She, too, no longer kissed the often-unlucky but secretly strong _kanrinin_ Keitaro, but Keitaro Urashima, the man who willingly gave all of himself that he could and forgave anyone for anything they did to him, but who might never forgive himself on his own unless she let him.

For the first time, they experienced a level of intimacy beyond attraction, beyond the surface of who and what they were to one another and the world at large, that went to the very core of what made them the way they were.

Almost at the same time, they broke away and gazed into each other's eyes, and whispered the same three words to each other, both knowing deep down as they spoke them that they meant every word.

"I love you."

Three words was all it took to drive all else away. At that moment, it didn't make a bit of difference where they were, or what else was happening, or how, or why. With a passion beyond any they had felt before, the full force of those three words brought them together with the force of a tidal wave. It began at their lips, as their tongues danced to their own beat in each other's mouths. Their hands joined next, cupping and caressing each other boldly and tenderly, pulling them closer together until their lips broke off to join the fray. He lavished a line of kisses across the edge of her jaw to her ear, down her neck, over her shoulder. Her legs wrapped their way around his middle as her hands slid under his shirt to run across his chest.

She encouraged him, and he encouraged her. She removed his shirt, he lowered the straps of her nightdress with his lips. Skin-to-skin, they embraced in the rising heat of their passion for each other. Keitaro moved on instinct, and moved well; his hands and lips traveled downward, lightly and maddeningly brushing the firm, yielding flesh of her bosom. She inhaled sharply, her head tilting back and her fingers running through his hair as tingling bolts of pleasure followed every small touch. Emboldened by her response, he went a step further, gently drawing first one hardened tip in his mouth, then the other as well, eliciting deeper moans from her in the process.

As they fell sideways onto the bed, Mitsune retook the initiative, reaching and feeling and tasting everything about him she could as he was doing to her. Now it was Keitaro's turn to writhe with the attention, his body responding with heat and musk. She hooked the corner of his boxers with her right thumb, pulled the opposite side with her left big toe, and followed the material's progress downward with her other limbs. Keitaro's head now reached her abdomen, face and lips and nose trailing across and down the sensitive skin of her belly as the material of her own thin garment fell down and away.

She found him, and he found her. As the remaining material between them fell away, she made contact first, a brief but intense first caress of what she had only felt through fabric. Then it was lost, lost as his groaning response reverberated in his first contact with her, his lips tracing and delving into areas already hot with liquid fire to stoke the flames higher still. Her back arched, unintelligible groans escaping her lips as her hands grasped his head, holding it where it was, urging him to keep going. Her legs took over, reaching where her arms could not to wrap and rub and pinch with her toes everything they could find.

She was soon close, closer to that point she loved to reach on her own than she could imagine, right on the very edge. Then, and only then, did his tongue join the fray, brushing the small, sensitive nub at the top in circles before starting a deeper dive.

Her world exploded into a thousand bursts of light, her thighs squeezing his head like a vice as she came.

And it was only the beginning. When she finally released him, his head returned slowly upwards, his body sliding as close to her own as it could. She held him tightly, tasting herself on his lips, and felt the long, aching readiness he possessed between them. She was ready for him, so very ready, but one thing remained. Her bag lay near the bed, just within her reach. Her hand found the opening, pulling something she had kept in a small compartment on the side, in hope against all hope she would have the opportunity to make use of it. She made use of it now, sheathing him blindly but expertly with practiced speed, eliciting a grateful-sounding response from her companion as she did it.

Vaguely, she made a mental note to find more in a larger size. The ones she had would do the trick, but only just.

There was no barrier of resistance as he entered her; she'd taken care of that herself long ago, and on her own.

It was a good thing, she later thought, that the room had such thick walls. The noise they made in the next twenty minutes could have woken the dead otherwise.

* * *

A.N.: Well, then, there you have it: the big firsts hath been reached at last. I wrote the last scene the way I see it happening, with the attention and care of Keitaro's nature meeting the passion and intensity of Mitsune's. Highly enjoyable to write, and definitely not the last of its kind I plan on doing.

Anyway, suffice to say that things are going to get stranger and hairier from this point on. The night is still young for these two, and the next bit I wrote was inspired directly by the song "Beyond the Wasteland" from the movie _Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children_; listen to it, and you'll get an idea of what I mean…

On a side note, TWENTY-SEVEN PAGES—HOLY CRAP THAT WAS LONG! Or as RvB's Agent Washington might say, "That…was the longest chapter…ever. Of all time."


	11. Ch11:Tell Him About The Twinkie

Disclaimer and Belated Note: I don't own _Love Hina _and yadda yadda yadda…forgot to mention that the last chapter's title is an almost direct quote from _Halo 3_. Sorry about that; it's one of my favorite quotes from that game. And it does!

Anyway, let's get it on…er, rather, let's get on with it!

* * *

Chapter 11: Tell Him about the Twinkie…

About ten minutes after his driver had suddenly howled with a scream no man should ever make, one of Garhem Essade's many henchman finally came to, feeling like an outdoor China shop in the streets of Barcelona.

'_Fuck, this job doesn't pay enough for this shit,_' he thought to himself. It felt like several things had been broken in the crash, mostly on his left hand side. His right leg was trapped in the mangled wreck of the truck's dash, and he was bleeding in several places.

All this, just to catch some prick in an old armored suit for their boss.

He spat. Like they had a chance. Whoever that bastard was, he kicked their asses to Okinawa and back, and blew the nuts off his partner (who was now writhing and babbling incoherently next to him). Why he didn't just kill them all outright was beyond him; their biggest guns weren't even putting a dent in him! He'd blown Merv off the damn highway into the ocean with one shot and kicked his bike into Group 4's ride, and picked the rest of them off like clockwork standing on the roof of the van of the worst fucking driver he'd ever seen like he was attached to it!

Essade was gonna be pissed, he knew. He wasn't the type to piss off like that. And that meant either the little shit in armor was gonna have a small army of cutthroats on his hands real soon, or else the leader of their little patrol was going to lose more than his manlihood when Essade found out they'd gotten their asses kicked.

Or both.

Suddenly, he heard a noise like an approaching car. He tried looking out the window to see it coming. A large, armored car that looked like it had already been through ten war zones of its own creation was stopping nearby. Custom job for sure, and a nasty sonuvabitch by the looks of it. '_Bit late for the fucking cavalry to get here_,' he thought ruefully. '_Coulda used something like that twenty minutes ago!_'

Unfortunately, he found out when the door opened, it wasn't one of theirs to begin with.

His blood ran cold as ice, and with a sudden surge of fresh adrenaline he began fighting desperately to get himself free. '_No…aw, HELL no…it can't be…!!!_'

His struggles were in vain. A hand burst though the remains of his side window, its fingers thick and covered in sharp, embedded metal tips. There was as much metal and man-made composites in that hand as there was flesh and bone; in places, it even replaced the skin entirely. It was monstrous, and like every other member of Essade's crew and half the underworld they belonged to besides, it was a sight no one wanted to see. He didn't have long to look at that hand, for in a matter of seconds it had grabbed him by the neck, claws embedding painfully in his flesh.

He didn't have time or air to properly scream, either. With inhuman force, the half-human arm connected to that hand tore him from the vehicle in one motion, nearly ripping his leg completely off in the process.

His mind screaming with pain and terror, his face was brought to bear with the owner of that hand. Dead looking eyes in a skull-like visage looked at him without emotion, without pity, eyes rimmed with bands of metal and flesh and hardened ceramic plate. Eyes that might once have been almost black, but whose color had faded and become rimmed with faint yellow.

The mouth opened, half the teeth turned into long, sharpened metal fangs. It did not smile, or frown, or twist in any recognizable way, but rather spoke in a deep, demanding monotone.

"**You will tell me what you were after, or be torn apart. You have ten seconds to choose, and no other options. Obey.**"

Barely able to breathe, about to piss in his pants, the goon told him all he knew, pleading for mercy.

And the thing crushed his throat when he'd finished.

The man once known as Villerchek Dubate dropped the bleeding corpse in a twisted heap in the middle of the road, not even giving it a second glance. Mercy and pity were not his stock and trade; he had none, felt none, and gave none. They were meaningless and irrelevant to him, a weakness of the weak.

The key to the advance of his own power had been found, possibly by a powerful and capable user. Essade and his men were after it, and had not succeeded thus far in obtaining it.

Dubate did not need the armor itself, only the organism it had been made from. Its study would tell him all he needed to finish his own transformation, to recreate more like himself to build an invincible base of power greater than all on this world. They would replace the weak entirely, working like a unified whole under his will to control and expand across the whole of this world.

All else was irrelevant and expendable. All that got in the way was an obstacle to be leveled, or an enemy to be killed.

It mattered little who bore the ancient device. He needed only wait for Essade's weak fools to lead him to it, or else to find this new enemy himself and eliminate him. Either way, he would be taking the suit by force.

All that stood in the way would be exterminated or destroyed, sooner or later.

The man known as Atrocity left as quickly as he had come, his vehicle's iron-treaded tires and deadly serrated-edged armor shredding all that stood in the way.

**********

A shadow watched the hellish car leave, heedless of the debris in its path, before detaching itself from a hidden perch in a stony cliff high above the road.

It disgusted and angered him to see Dubate again. Atrocity was exactly as he was commonly called: an inhuman, emotionless abomination. A man driven entirely by the desire for power and control. A bastard made of flesh and metal and who knew what else, devoid of pity, of honor, of all sense of good and evil in the normal sense. What men he had under him, he used and disposed of like cheap tools, and never for very long.

A man that had once been his friend, his ally, his teacher, years ago.

But that man gave up his humanity, hadn't he? Villerchek Dubate no longer existed. Maybe he never truly had, in the end.

Merten Dripe was a trained killer. _Ninjutsu_ was in his blood; he was a leader among the ruthless, a man drenched in the blood of others as much as any other under him, perhaps even more. As they had for generations, they answered to no one but themselves, worked for those of their own choosing for their own benefit, cared little for any but their own, if at all.

They were not necessarily evil, as someone like that crimelord Essade could be easily described; nor were they necessarily good, though they often left those that were good alone for lack of reason to treat them otherwise. Their business was secrecy and death, and strictly their own; matters of assassination, espionage, and their own codes of honor and grim justice were part and parcel of their stock and trade.

Dubate had been one of their own, once. Had been their best, their leader. Subtle and wise, and incredibly powerful.

He had also killed over a third of them himself, after he'd changed as he had, wiping them out as he had wiped out so many others in his path ever since.

And then he'd all but disappeared; the rumor of his rare appearances were all that remained, always heard long after the fact. He became known as Atrocity, an unstoppable force wit his own agenda, known to exist by the indiscriminate trails of bodies he left in his wake. He was alive, certainly, but even Dripe couldn't find him or stop him.

Until now, that is.

Dripe quickly reached the remains of the body in the road and examined it. This one had been lucky not to have suffered much; his end had been relatively quick, for someone that crossed paths with Atrocity.

Nine of his colleagues had not been so lucky. What little remained of them was scattered further back along the highway.

His partner, however still whimpered from within the remains of the truck.

Dripe quickly got what information he could out of the man. He'd been the leader of this group, and the only one to even land a shot on anyone in the vehicle that had been their target. Apparently, it had been a mistake for him to do so; he had paid _very _dearly for it, courtesy of a high-caliber bullet that he swore was aimed specifically for him and him only.

Dripe could have killed the man after he'd told him all he needed to know about what had happened there; but he'd made sure the man didn't find out who he was, and instead only had to tranquilize him with a powerful sedative. Nobody else around was currently conscious or alive; those that had been after crashing had met with Atrocity, and he'd left this one alive only because he hadn't been in his way.

He let the man be. He didn't care much for Essade or the all-too-often vile goons he hired, but there was little point in killing them for no. By leaving him blissfully unconscious until a medic came to patch him up, he'd have all the chance to live through this mess he probably deserved or needed.

The man called the Wraith by friend and foe alike slipped away like a shadow the way he'd come. There was much for him to think about now and discuss with what remained of his clan, and very little time to do it in.

**********

In the middle of the night, Keitaro awoke from a sound, peaceful sleep to the sensation of distant but approaching danger.

The room was pitch-black. Not just dark, but devoid of light entirely. The seal on the door was all but airtight, the only other opening in the room was a heavy ventilation duct welded into the ceiling, and there were, of course, no windows underground.

Senses alert, however, he found he didn't need his sight to know there was only one other person in the room.

She was fast asleep, her naked body very closely entwined with his own.

He carefully felt with his _ki_, stretching it out like an eye and a hand, to get a better idea of where the danger was. He felt the approach of a presence, somewhat concealed but powerful nonetheless, and its intent on finding him.

It seemed to be confused, or else unsure, about something as well.

Whatever the case, he couldn't ignore it lightly.

"Pssst…Mitsune…Mitsune, wake up!" he urged his sleeping companion.

She groaned and mumbled. "W-what is it? Is it morning already?"

"Something's coming, and it's after me," he whispered. "I need to find out what."

His words roused her more fully. "What? Are you sure?"

"Positive. Wait here, I'll be back."

"Be careful! Don't get yourself killed!"

He dressed quickly. He could feel the approach of the threat getting nearer, and he had no time to don the armor. Clad in the shorts he'd worn that day and the discarded t-shirt he had worn to bed, he took the only weapon he had kept with him: his sword. He hoped he wouldn't have to use it, but if whatever was coming was here for blood, he would at least be prepared.

Keitaro slipped quietly into the hallway, noting immediately that the lights had been dimmed for the night. He left the door shut, and found a dark corner nearby to wait in.

A few seconds went by before he saw the source of the danger approach. Masked and wearing black, the figure moved down the hallway slowly, a sword drawn and ready. It searched the corridor silently, seemingly unsure and searching for the right room. Step by silent step, it made its way to his doorway, and stiffened when it was only a few feet away from it. Its gloved hand reached for the door handle.

Just as silently, he stepped out behind it, sword sheathed but ready to be drawn. "Looking for me?" he said in a very low but quiet voice. The figure froze, spun to face him with sword ready. "What!?" it said, also quietly, but with clear surprise.

"Drop the sword. I have no desire to hurt you," he said, evenly and quietly, stance relaxed and ready. The figure seemed briefly confused, but ready to attack. Something was wrong here…

The figure moved into an overhead strike. Fast as lightning, it moved with deadly precision to strike its target, only to find said target was even faster. The slice hit nothing, but the assailant had no time to ponder the sudden disappearance; two hands had joined its own, one resting atop the back of the sword's handle, the other just below its left wrist. Suddenly, the figure felt a sensation like going over the top of a roller coaster, its movement into the downward cut exaggerated well beyond its original extent. The hand on its wrist guided the wide circular pull, drawing it off balance and off its feet. Startled, the assailant lost it's grip on the weapon, trying to catch its balance again. But Keitaro kept the motion going, drawing it even further forward and up, and finally downward again, the momentum alone tossing the figure partway down the hall.

Rolling after landing, the assailant immediately noticed something missing, namely the sword it had been using. Dumbfounded by this turn of events, its dark eyes looked in sudden horror at Keitaro, who now held the blade himself! Yet he did not move to attack, as it might have expected.

Instead, he was examining the blade. The figures eyes went wide; what if he realized…

Before the assailant could rush to try and reclaim its weapon, the damage was already done. "This is…!" Keitaro looked at the figure again, recognition setting in.

The figure halted mid-dash. Too late.

Keitaro only sighed and shook his head. "I'd ask you what for…but I'd rather like to find out, Motoko, why do it now and not in the morning?"

Promptly, Keitaro felt the aggression and danger diminish to nothing as the figure hesitantly, embarrassedly, removed her mask. "I…had to know something for sure," the swordmaiden replied in an unsteady monotone, eyes cast on the floor.

"Know what?" he asked.

She sank to her knees, a look of defeat in her face. "Haruka-san explained to us that you had great skill in the martial arts, and claimed you were more powerful than we realized. I knew already that you had some strength you had not yet revealed, as I have seen a security tape of your deeds this past Sunday afternoon. Yet I still found it hard to believe that you could easily have defeated us at any time if you so wished. I could not believe it, not unless I saw the proof myself. I learned that you had arrived tonight; by tomorrow, I would not have the opportunity to test the claim."

"Why not?" he inquired.

"The key factor in support of the claim was that you were unwilling to attack or defend against one of your tenents, Urashima-san. Therefore, the only way I could see available to validify or disprove the claim…"

"…was to disguise yourself as an unknown attacker, an assassin in the night, and force my hand." He nodded in realization.

"Precisely. If my original analysis of your capabilities had been correct, I would have taken you by surprise, and met little resistance. However…" she glanced at her sword, which still lay in his hands, "that has proven not to be the case. I have been defeated in all regards: instead of you, I was the one taken by surprise, and defeated soundly in straight confrontation. I have even failed in keeping secret my identity, and have lost the weapon entrusted to me for my use."

Her expression became all but dead with defeat. "Now I am at the mercy of one I have openly loathed the existence of at worst and barely tolerated at best. You have defeated me, Urashima-san, and you now have full justification and opportunity to repay me for the wrongs I have committed against you; I have no justifiable defense. My honor dictates that my life is forfeit; now finish me!"

For a moment, Keitaro stood still, looking at her with a hard stare. "There is no honor in death, Motoko Aoyama," he said, "only more pain for those that yet live."

Surprised, she looked up at him. "W-what!?"

"Listen to me, Motoko," he said, taking a half-step closer before kneeling in a posture too closely akin to her own to be mere mimicry, but rather a result of his own training. Her sword lay across his lap; his own extended behind him naturally. "Did Haruka explain the _reason _I have been unwilling to act in my own defense thus far?"

Motoko thought about it for a moment. "She claimed…that you did not wish to injure those you consider to be…friends. That you would rather receive injury yourself."

"Then, can you understand the reason why I am now angry?" he demanded. "It is not because you have attacked me, now or at any time in the past; it is because you have risked undermining the very purpose for enduring a tremendous level of pain and suffering by taking the risk you have taken tonight."

She looked at him in sudden fear. To her eyes, his presence suddenly seemed to dominate the room, filled with a power beyond her comprehension. There was anger in him, yes, and it was directed toward her. But even now, she sensed, he was holding it back with a force of will beyond any she herself possessed.

He was also holding her sword, respectfully and in reverse, handle pointing toward her.

She blinked, looking at him as he offered her the sword, registering his appearance for the first time. He was fairly disheveled, wearing little else besides shorts and an insubstantial t-shirt. His own weapon hung at his side, its oddly organic-looking handle and sheath concealing an unusually long curved blade with curved prongs replacing the hilt. He had brought it, she realized, but hadn't even needed to use it. In fact, he had _purposefully _not used it, or he would have drawn it immediately. At the speed he'd moved, with the skill and form he clearly possessed, he could easily have killed her with it or without it, but hadn't—and wasn't—doing so. The idea was almost foreign to her; she'd expected to come away either vindicated or dead from the encounter, not alive _and_ proven wrong. She wanted to be angry, but was instead stunned and ashamed of her actions. She looked down and away. "I do not deserve to live, Urashima-san. Why do you not strike me down?"

"Motoko, you wished to learn the truth in coming here like this, or you would not be here. Now you know a part of it beyond your own doubts, do you not?"

She looked at him in surprise. "Yes. I did. And…I know more now, for certain, than before."

"Why?" he asked simply.

She looked away, trying to think. She had been so _sure_, before she'd come; now that she had, everything seemed less certain to her. "To…find out if my actions toward you have been unjust. If you had been as I had believed before, practically nothing would be different, apart from…from the fact that my actions were causing more harm than I had believed them to. However, if what Haruka-san told us was true, I have not only wronged you numerous times, but I have also blinded myself to the truth. Without truth, I can have no honor, Urashima-san; yet in truth, my pride has already stripped me of that which I felt most proud."

Keitaro looked her in the eye with a penetrating, but oddly gentle, glare. "There is no honor in throwing your life away, either, Motoko. You, by your own actions tonight, have proven that to me."

"What…do you mean?" she asked, confused.

"For a long time, Motoko," he said, laying the sword in front of her and sitting down himself, "I believed in honor as you do, in my own way. Still do, in fact, though lately I've been seeing it a little differently. You see, whenever someone in the Hina-Sou attacked me, deserved or not, I always chose not to defend myself or fight back. As _kanrinin_, it wouldn't be honorable for me to attack my tenants, even in self-defense, regardless of the circumstances. If nothing else, it would be gross negligence of my responsibility to them, and to you, to do so. To my way of thinking, it was better that I take the hits willingly, as I could recover from the damage quickly and go on. It meant that I would suffer, but it also meant my tenants would not. The longer I stayed, the better I got to know everyone as well, to the point that I could count you all as friends in my book as well."

_That _surprised Motoko more than anything else that night. "You…consider us…me, even…as friends? But…we have not treated you as a friend most of the time."

He smiled. "I know! Often quite the opposite, in fact, I'm sure. But for all the times you have attacked me, Motoko, you have never truly sought to take my life, or my head would no longer be attached to my shoulders, am I correct?"

She looked like she was going to object, but thought better of it. When she really thought about it, she'd attacked him a hundred ways that might have killed him, yet in the end… "That may be true, Urashima-san, but then no normal human being could survive the attacks I _have _used on you, either."

"But for a long time, you've known that I can, and that I have. Yet in spite of that, you haven't attempted anything more serious than what you already have tried. Even, it would seem, right now."

She considered this idea for a moment, and realized that indeed he was right. Even now, she could potentially kill him, knowing he wouldn't resist her knowingly; he sat now, her sword still offered to her in a manner that could easily be his own undoing, the blade already within his defenses and her control. Yet _Shisui _hadn't moved; she continued to let it lay in his hands in front of her, unused. She now took the weapon in her hands, trembling.

He sat unmoving, hands in his lap, the tip still facing his heart.

She could kill him now, if she wanted. And yet…

Slowly, the blade lowered, and fell away at her side.

"If only because you have spared _my _life time and again, Motoko," he continued, "I would have chosen to spare you the harm you have caused me. Now that you finally seek the truth, I will not withhold it from you." In one motion, Keitaro stood and removed his shirt. Startled, a half-second from believing he was attempting something perverted, her hand went for her sword. It stopped, however, an inch away from the handle, when she saw his chest. "This, Motoko, is the truth I know every time your blade meets its mark. This is the price I have paid for such honor, and it has been heavy indeed."

Though the light was dim, she could see now what had for long been hidden to her, and the sight shocked her to her very core. It was like a human record of every angle, every attack, every blow she had ever dealt him, and more that she hadn't. The newest, she knew, matched the angle of her last attack exactly, the same angle of the cut on his ruined shirt. It was one of a hundred like it, some almost completely faded, others more prominent. "This is what I did not want you, or any of the others, to have to go through. I can cause harm far worse than this, Motoko, and have paid dearly to ensure that I have not done so to my friends. Do you understand that, now?"

She backed away from him, stumbling back over her knees. "W-why would you hide that?"

He sighed, putting his shirt back on. "Because, Motoko, I was foolish enough to believe they didn't matter to anyone but me. I, too, have been blinded by honor. I thought that it would not matter, that doing what I believed to be honorable was more important than whether or not I stayed alive in the process. So long as I kept myself from hurting others intentionally, it didn't matter to me whether I lived or not." He paused, looking away. "But I was wrong."

Leaving her with that thought, he returned toward his room. Before he went in, he paused, looked at her. "Do not be so quick to equate your honor with your life. Without life, honor means nothing; the dead do not need it, and the living no longer have the dead. Don't ever forget that, Motoko." He opened the door to his room and went in, quietly shutting and locking it behind him.

Ten minutes later, Motoko finally arose from where she sat, her normal poise and steady calm long gone and her head still reeling in thought. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to take her own life and be done with it, and yet…she knew he was right. It was horrible and strange to her, but she could not deny that what he said had been true. Unbidden, she thought of her sister, of her friends. What would they do, if she died? Would they care that it had been an "honorable" demise, as she did? Would she care, after she was dead? No, none of them would. Strict though her sister was, Motoko knew she wanted what was best for her, always had. She would want her to live, not to die. What, indeed, would happen if she had lost her life where she now was, in this hall deep in a hidden corner in the middle of nowhere? She had long felt angry with Tsuruko for leaving the _Shinmei-ryu _school to get married, and angry with men in general for being the root cause of her departure. Now, she realized, it wasn't because of the dishonor of abandoning her birthright in the process that she had been angry, but rather the mere fact that it meant she was all but separated from her sister, her only living family, in the process. It had been almost like she had died to her, and yet still lived.

Could she bring herself to put her own friends through that pain? Could she give up her own life, knowing they would be hurt so deeply? What honor was there in such a deed!?

Her body felt suddenly weak; in need of sleep, she began moving on automatic pilot back to her own room.

Her mind, however, was in no mood to rest.

**********

When Mitsune next awoke, she wondered what time it was. It was still dark, but oddly enough it wasn't entirely so. The overhead lights, she realized, were glowing ever so slightly, enough to actually see the dark gray shapes in the room around her. She couldn't read the clock very clearly; it looked like it said 6:44 or 8:44, she wasn't sure which. She guessed it was morning, but had no way of knowing. They were, after all, deep underground, and there were no windows to let the early morning sun shine in, whatever the lights were doing otherwise.

Keitaro was, very fortunately, still with her, sleeping comfortably and nestled closely to her own body. Unlike the last time they'd awoken, they were both back in their nightwear. She had put hers back on when he'd left, in case something dire happened; when he'd returned, she'd learned it nearly had.

'_Damn, doesn't she __**ever **__lay off?_' she wondered ruefully. Had it been anyone other than Keitaro, Motoko could have been killed doing something that stupid! She was damned lucky Keitaro had recognized her _Shisui_ so quickly.

Maybe now, though, she'd have enough sense to point that thing in a different direction than her Kei-kun all the time.

For now, she was quite content to lay where she was, warm and comfortable and safe in his arms, knowing she would rather be there than anywhere else at this point.

Well, _almost _anywhere else; after all, there was more to Keitaro than just his arms. A lot more, she now knew.

A few minutes later, the lighting in the room increased slowly like a simulated sunrise, until she could see things more clearly in the partial illumination. A moment later, the clock's alarm function performed its duty faithfully.

It was odd, because she was certain neither of them had set it the night before.

She saw Keitaro's face scrunch slightly at the offensive noise, his free arm automatically reaching out to hit the off button. Unfortunately, being on the outside edge of a raised bed with the alarm at the foot of it was not the same as being nearer to the ground with the clock close to your head, the way he was used to. His finger pressed where the button shoul have been, met with empty air, and kept going. He, meanwhile, had been laying on his side almost at the bed's limit, and so his shoulder, too, overshot the edge completely, bringing him with it.

Suddenly, Mitsune realized the one problem with holding onto him at that particular moment: if he fell, so did she.

Awakening a little more than halfway after bumping the back of his head, Keitaro instantly became aware of several things. First, he was now flat on his back on fairly cold, hard concrete; second, his girlfriend was half-lying on, half-straddling him, in full and heavy contact with a very significant section of his already-awake lower anatomy; third, by some odd coincidence of fate both of her shoulder straps had dropped sideways from their normal positions, allowing the front of her nightgown to fall away once more directly in front of his face.

Aside from the bump on the back of his head, he found himself thinking, it had to be the best wakeup call of all time.

"Ummm…" he said, not sure what to do and not awake enough to register how he had ended up in this position yet.

Seeing the startled but hardly afraid look in his eyes, Mitsune wasn't sure whether to laugh at their unexpectedly compromising positions or make the most of them immediately. Meanwhile, the alarm continued to blare at their feet. A delightfully evil thought crossed her mind, and she grinned widely. Leaning forward into him and lifting a leg, she used her big toe to hit the button and turn off the alarm. She missed several times (on purpose, of course) before hitting her mark, then settled the rest of the way down on top of him. In the process, she'd managed not only to wiggle and roll her hips up along his lower abdomen (causing his eyes to bulge and cross in pleasure, as there was more between his abdomen and her pelvis than just their clothing) but also to reposition her chest a little higher, such that his nose and a large portion of his face was surrounded on all sides in the midst of her soft, bare flesh.. Leaning her head down, she kissed him on the top of his forehead. "Good morning, Keitaro!" she said to him in a very sultry way.

"Grrd mrrnrng Krrtshnnr," she heard, and felt, him say underneath her.

'_Oooh, wow! Hmmm..._' she thought, reveling in the combined effects of his breath and the vibration of his voice running across and through her chest. '_I wonder if I can get him to do that again?_'

"What'd you say?" she said teasingly, her fingertips tickling across the back of his neck underneath her. "You'll have to…_speak up_ a bit."

Keitaro blinked, then smiled. Bump or no bump, this was _definitely _the best wakeup call of all time.

Speaking slowly, deeply, an loudly this time, he said, "Groood morrrninng, Khriittssu-chhhaaannn!" Her flesh vibrated in time with his voice, tickling against the sides of his cheeks. He felt her begin to squirm and tremble even more against him as he spoke. '_Is she…actually enjoying this as much as I think she is?_' he wondered to himself. If she was, he was happy to oblige!

In truth, she wasn't enjoying it as much as he dared to believe she was; she was enjoying it even _more_ than that. Though she was only just now beginning to realize it, her ability to enjoy all the physical aspects of a relationship to their fullest had always been limited by her own belief system. In truth, she had already openly enjoyed her hot-and-heavy side far more than the other girls at the inn had ever been willing to admit was even possible; in practice, she'd either turned down or cut short many opportunities to exercise it to the fullest by following her greedy nature rather than her own heart. She'd lived up to her nickname as a wily, flirtatious, and cleverly conniving Fox, using her assets like a sword and a shield to get what she believed she wanted out of guys, especially Keitaro. Yet because of her ulterior motives, her ability to enjoy being so close and intimate to someone never experienced the pure, unhindered freedom they'd both given it the previous night.

In her heart, as it had in his, love had given her joy like nothing else could.

A short moment later, she felt Keitaro underneath her beginning to squirm in distress. Suddenly realizing she had his face very thoroughly trapped underneath her, she sat up quickly to allow him to breathe. "Sorry!" she said as he gasped for air.

"I-its okay, just…needed to breathe, that's all," he said, catching his breath with a chuckle.

Giggling, she helped him back up to sit on the bed with her again. They nuzzled and kissed, and teased and played, until a knock at the door interrupted their swiftly mounting efforts.

Reluctantly, they disengaged from one another, straightening out their clothing for the sake of decency, to allow Keitaro to answer the knock. "Who is it?" he asked, trying to make his voice sound as normal as possible.

"Just me, Keitaro," said a voice he recognized to be Haruka's from the other side, "come to tell you two that breakfast is in half an hour."

"Oh, right," he said, suddenly remembering that he was hungry. He had, after all, been quite busy the night before. "Umm, where do they…where _is _breakfast, anyway?" he asked through the door.

"Head right down the hall to the end, make a left, and follow the next hallway down 'till the next juction," he heard her say. "There's a mess hall through the double doors you'll find there. Oh, and Kei?"

"Yeah?"

"Make sure you both have all your gear with you before you go; you probably won't need it before you can get back, but I wouldn't guarantee anything at this point."

"Oh…right. Thank you, Haruka." He distinctly did _not _like the sound of that, but then, there was little to be done about it.

"One more thing, Kei: I have something for you from Seta."

"Huh?" Keitaro unlatched and opened the door a crack. He saw Haruka standing there, wearing a slightly more formal version of what she'd worn the night before. It resembled a dark-colored _gi_ crossed with an officer's uniform, without the extra riot gear from the night before. In her hand was a folded piece of heavy dark cloth. Its color was an almost black dark blue, but the fabric seemed to reflect a hazy, dark purplish red sheen along the surface. "What's that?" he asked, curious.

"_This_ is something to go over your armor, at least for this morning. It will make you a little less conspicuous in a crowd, maybe give you some time to finish breakfast in peace as well," she said, handing it to him. He unfolded the thing and discovered it was something similar to a heavy, hooded cloak, but not quite. The hood, neck, and shoulders were all one piece, the bottom edge extending approximately down where his armpit began, maybe slightly less with the armor, with the neck ending in front of and slightly above his chin. This part had several large clasps in the front, such that he could loosely clip it together or seal it past his neck. The remainder of the garment was like an oversized cape sewn in beneath the inner edge of the neck, adjustable enough to tuck behind the shoulders or wrap fully around the front.

"Wow…this is kinda cool, actually," he said, looking it over. "Tell him I said thanks, if you see him before I do."

Had he looked up at that point, he might have caught the small smirk that flashed across her lips just then.

"Eh, don't worry, you'll probably see him yourself soon enough. Anyway, you'll need to be wearing that armor, and it will behoove you to have something over it…unless, of course, you don't mind missing breakfast for having to talk to everyone all at once." With that, she left.

He sighed in relief, shutting the door. Now that he thought of it, the problem actually _had _been bugging him a bit; the armor was so conspicuous looking, even in an odd place like this, he could easily see having trouble getting around. If he went out in it as it was now, he'd stick out like a sore thumb, and doubly so if people knew what the thing was already; the cloak, on the other hand, would at least make him a little less immediately recognizable.

"Wow, what is that?" Mitsune asked, getting up to get a closer look once he'd closed the door.

"Looks like some sort of cloak," he replied. Experimentally, he put it on. It was a little large on him, but then he wasn't wearing much of anything at the moment. The edges were worn and a little ratty near the bottom, but it easily wrapped around his front and almost down to the ground. Even with the armor on, he thought, he'd have no trouble hiding himself completely within the old garment.

Mitsune looked at him appraisingly. "Pretty cool, Kei. Makes you look kind of _mysterious _in a way," she said, giggling to herself. Sliding up next to him and slipping an arm underneath, she asked slyly, "Got enough room for two in there?"

He chuckled, a little embarrassed, but embraced her anyway, allowing the edges to slip around her shoulders as he kissed her. A minute later, he pulled away, saying, "If we keep this up, we're going to miss breakfast."

Mitsune heard her stomach grumble at her, and realized he had a point. She sighed dramatically. "Oh, well…I guess we can't keep this up on an empty stomach, huh?"

He chuckled. "No, but we can do plenty on a full one."

She smiled. "Anyway, let's at least make ourselves presentable, shall we?"

**********

About fifteen minutes later, Keitaro had donned his armor and the new cloak, which fit rather well together. The hood even went over his helmet completely. He adjusted his sword at his waist such that it would rest a little more vertically than before, and it, too, fit well under the folds. Emptying his own bag (which was slightly longer and more portable than Mitsune's, and had less in it from the outset), he left with the locker key while Mitsune changed into fresh clothes to reclaim their other weapon and supplies.

There were many more people up and about now that it was morning, he noticed; some looked to be wearing something similar to the odd uniforms Haruka and Tsuruko had been wearing, both with and without the heavier gear, while others wore everything from street clothes to heavy robes to business suits, even the occasional cloak or two like himself. A few wore outlandish clothing that, like their wearers, appeared to have come from completely different countries altogether. None seemed to pay him any particular mind, at least at the moment; though he wore a very unusual suit of armor under his cloak and carried a sword, the cloak was just enough to make him not stand out in this oddball crowd, as so many were similarly armed and adorned in their own fasions.

The locker itself, it turned out, was narrow but deep, about a foot and a half wide and two and a half tall but extending inward about five feet with a somewhat wider curved back. Three hundred and sixty such lockers lined a half-circular wall in double-high stacks that started at the ground and opened inward, arranged exactly like the degree markers of a large compass. Number 42 was on the upper row, almost a quarter of the way in on the left side and right above Number 222.

'_Well, that's convenient,_' he thought to himself. Examining everything, he quickly spotted his Desert Eagle and Mitsune's pair of Glocks, the Remington, and her vest. He took the time to refill the weapons and clips while he was there, and to slip an extra shell in his shotgun. He strapped his handgun back in place on his hip, but put the shotgun in his bag; he wouldn't have room for both over his shoulder. Stashing the vest, Mitsune's guns, and plenty of extra clips and shells, he checked all the safeties and closed up the bag, strapping it over his head and allowing it to rest over his right arm instead of under it (since he was wearing the cloak's cape fully around his front).

He returned to their room a minute later to find Kitsune fully dressed and ready. Shutting the door, he helped her get her own gear on; as she strapped on her holsters and filled them, Keitaro figured out a way to stash the shotgun under his cloak by hooking the strap vertically over one shoulder. Since the bag was less weighty and bulky than before, Mitsune carried what remained in it for him (saying he looked silly with one arm pinned to his side like he had) and they left together to find the mess hall.

The hall itself, they found, was somewhat similar to a loosely organized cafeteria and about twice as busy. Buffets and food lines were scattered everywhere; along one wall, several cooks were preparing food on flat counter griddles, whipping up omelets and pancakes at an alarmingly fast rate to meet an equally fast demand. Cereal bars, drink stands, sausage pans, muffin tins, waffle irons, syrup vats, industrial-sized coffee machines with large condiment trays, bowls of every variety of fruit, plates and trays, and several hundred people filled the hall in the great madness that was an organized breakfast.

The only thing for certain in the great mass chaos of heavily armed and hungry men and women was that a food fight was not recommended.

It took them a while to gather together their meals, as the lines were long and numerous and they themselves were unusually ravenous, but eventually they brought two heavily laden trays to an empty side-wall table that reminded Keitaro of the one they'd sat in at the diner only days earlier. As had been the case then, no one really noticed them there, all minding their own meals and conversations. They sat together on the right-hand side of the four-person table. Keitaro opened the topmost clips on his cloak to make it easier to eat, but left the hood in place. For a while, they ate together in silence, both tearing through their food at a great rate. Keitaro hadn't felt this hungry in a while; whether because of the suit or because of his time with Mitsune (or both), his body now demanded large quantities of high-octane fuel, and he wasn't about to deny it a single drop.

Mitsune scanned the faces around them as they ate, looking to see if she saw anyone familiar. A few she recognized in passing, but didn't know well enough to identify by name.

"Do you think anyone else we know is here?" she asked Keitaro as quietly as she could manage over the din.

He thought about it for a moment. "I'm not sure…I don't recognize anybody I've seen yet," he replied in a low voice, "but then again, this place is pretty crowded. I haven't even seen anyone that we _do _know is here, either…wait, listen! I think…" Underneath his cloak, Keitaro began to grin.

"What?" Mitsune asked, but he held a finger to his lips. He whispered in her ear, "I think I just heard two of them. Listen carefully, they're coming this way."

She listened, and sure enough there were two voices she recognized, and they were arguing back and forth at a great rate.

"Well, I can't argue over the food," said one, "but how are we supposed to find Keitaro if we can't even find a seat?"

"I thought he'd be with those girls he lives with," said the other. "If he isn't, we should be!"

"Maybe they kicked him out?"

"Nah, he owns the place. Besides, they do that to him every day anyway."

"Can you imagine that? Man's _surrounded _by gorgeous women and can't get with any of 'em."

"And not for lack of trying, either. I keep telling him he'd better get his act together quick or we're gonna do it for him."

"Perhaps we should. There's like—what—three of 'em that are old enough anyway. Four, counting Haruka. And that chick with the watermelons that comes around, too."

Giggling, Mitsune said aloud, "I think you'll need to redo that count a bit, boys."

"Huh!?" both voices said in unison. Grinning she turned to see the startled faces of Keitaro's two best friends: Kimiaki Shirai and Masayuki Haitani.

Shirai recognized her first. "Hey, isn't that—"

"Wait a sec…don't we know you?" Haitani asked.

The Fox just smiled, one eye almost shut. "I think it's possible."

"You're Mitsune Konno, aren't you? From the Hinata-Sou?"

"Yes, I am, and it's Kitsune to you both," she stated with a grin. "Looking for somebody?"

"Um…yes, we are, actually. We're looking for our friend and your landlord," said Shirai. "I don't know _what _he did this time, but whatever it was got _us _yanked off the street and whisked away to…wherever this is."

"Why, whatever for? Please, have a seat," she asked, beckoning them to sit across from them with a gesture of her hand. Keitaro casually closed the top clasp on his cloak as his pals scrambled for the inside seat.

Haitani got there first. "Well, you see…they were pretty tight-lipped about it, but they told us it was about Keitaro. Said he'd need us here 'for our protection' or some such line. Mind you, _we _told them we didn't need protecting, but…wait a sec, why are you wearing a bulletproof vest?"

"This? Oh, this is for _my _protection, thank you," she said. "Didn't they give you one?"

"Uhh…no, not yet," Shirai admitted. "Anyway, have you seen Keitaro lately, and if not can either of us interest you in dinner when they let us out of this place?"

Mitsune pretended like she was thinking, and Keitaro remained silent and seemingly uninterested. It was hard not to laugh, watching them act like they knew what they were doing.

"You know…I miiight have seen him around here somewhere. He was hanging around a _very _pretty girl I know. I think they were together, too," she said, as though recalling a half-forgotten memory.

"What!?" they both said, open-mouthed. Shirai looked at Haitani, then back at her. "Together? That doesn't sound like Keitaro much. Are you sure she wasn't there by accident or something, or maybe trying to punch him out?"

She smirked and shrugged. "Nope, she was definitely with him. Pretty close, too, by the looks of it," she added slyly. Keitaro again fought the urge to laugh when he saw their slackening expressions."

"D-do you know who it was?" Haitani asked in disbelief.

"Oh, I…think we've met," she said flippantly. "After all, she _does _live where I do."

_That _surprised the two even more than the fact that their seemingly hopelessly cursed best friend even _had _a girlfriend. "You mean…he's…"

"Going out with one of us? I'd think so," she said confidently.

Haitani looked at Shirai. "I think you were right the first time: the world really _is _coming to an end, and we're here to hide while natural order falls apart!"

Mitsune laughed. "No, no…I don't think that's what's happening, boys, not yet at least. Though I _do _hear your friend might have a hand in saving it soon enough."

Now it was their turn to laugh. "Save it? More likely _survive _it. That's harder to believe than him getting a girlfriend!" Shirai proclaimed. "By the way, where _do you_ get an arsenal around here, anyway?"

She chuckled. "Not sure, really. Besides, I got this before I got here. These, too." She lifted her arms, revealing the two pistols strapped to her sides. "I guess you could say I got them because of my boyfriend here," she nodded toward the cloaked figure sitting next to her, "but to be honest with you, _he's _a much better shot than I." She grinned evilly. "You wouldn't _believe _the size of _his_ guns."

Though she couldn't see his face any more than they could, she could damn near _feel _Keitaro blushing like mad under there. Oh, how she _loved _the double entendre!

Noticing the cloaked form in front of them almost for the first time, Shirai and Haitani suddenly recoiled slightly in shock. Indeed, they _couldn't _see who he was, but the combination of his cloak, the tip of a sword poking out the bottom, and the extra bulk of his armor beneath the fabric suggested he was not someone to be messed with lightly. "Oh, sorry man! I, uh, didn't realize you two were…ahem! Anyway, uh, I'm Masayuki Haitani, and this is Kimiaki Shirai. Uh…who might you be, that has captured the heart of yonder lovely lass, eh?"

Smiling to himself, he extended his gauntleted hand. In the process, his cloak opened slightly to one side, revealing the barrel of his shotgun, a portion of his armor, and the Desert Eagle at his side. Taking and shaking Hitani's hand in greeting, he said, "I believe, Haitani, that we've already met."

They both did a fast double-take. "Huh!?"

He pulled the hood back slightly and unbuckled the top clasp on his cloak's collar, so they could see his grinning face. "How've you guys been?"

"But…she said you were with one of—!" Shirai said in disbelief.

"I am, both literally and figuratively speaking," Keitaro replied. "And I'll have to agree with her: she is _very _beautiful indeed." He put his arm around her, and to their utter astonishment, her arm did the same around him.

They looked at him, then at her, then at him again, fingers extended and jaws slack. "How…why…is that even…_dude!!!_" Haitani stammered.

"You serious?" Shirai uttered in disbelief. "What the heck!? Why didn't you tell us?"

"When did it happen?"

"Is this why we're all here?"

"What about the others? Are they available?"

Keitaro chuckled. "Slow down, one at a time!" He scratched the back of his head under his cloak and helmet. "It's a pretty long story, and I can't tell you all of it anyway."

"Never mind that, man! Spill it! What universe have we fallen into that this could happen?" Shirai persisted.

"You can't just drop bombshells like this and expect us to eat it with eggs and sausage without telling us all the dirt! Come on, we're your friends, you owe us!" Haitani demanded.

Mitsune laughed. "Looks like we're gonna be here a while, Kei-kun."

Laughing himself, Keitaro began stuffing their ears as they stuffed their faces.

"Alright, alright, back up. Let me get this straight," Haitani said about twenty minutes later. "We're here because our seemingly hopeless friend has secretly been a kick-ass kung-fu master this entire time with supped-up powers and a super suit?"

"Pretty basically, yeah," Mitsune confirmed. "Though he just got the suit yesterday."

"And these evil dudes are looking for you 'cause you can kick their asses and they want that suit?"

"As far as I know," Keitaro responded. "Whoever they are, they've got lots of people working for them. Trust me, they're not very friendly at all from what I've seen so far."

"And this involves us because we're friends of yours, and they'd come after us to get to you?"

"Wouldn't doubt it."

"And you two are together because she found out about it?" Shirai added.

"Sort of…we kinda got together on our own in the process of all this happening," he replied. "Actually, I guess it started just before it all went to hell like it has now."

"Dude, that is seriously messed up in about ten different ways." Hitani said, shaking his head.

"Here we were, thinking you were just unlucky as hell, and you've been holding back all this time!?" Shirai moaned.

"No...I've been holding back, _and _my luck still generally sucks," Keitaro responded, before giving Mitsune a meaningful look, "but it just isn't _always_ bad."

She grinned, squeezing him even tighter. "You better believe it!"

"Like bull-_hell_ you've got bad luck!" Haitani argued. "Don't give me that! Look at you: not only are you five levels of overpowered badass higher than ever, you've got a total hottie gunning for you on all fronts and secret fortress covering your back, _and_ you've already played the hero three times this week alone! You call that unlucky!?"

"Think about it carefully, guys: I'm still me, the same as I ever was or ever will be. As we speak, the Hinata is more likely than not being torn to shreds by an army of villains that want me, specifically, dead, and will be here sooner or later to try and do just that. I hate fighting, and now I'm going to be fighting like hell. I don't know if _any _of us is going to get out of this alive, and I _really _don't know what I'm going to do about whatever happens afterward. In a week's time, I've gone from worrying about running a girls' dorm—badly—to worrying about whether or not I can save the world."

"Alright, alright, point taken," Haitani conceded. "Still, that leaves just one more question to ask."

Shirai nodded in agreement. "Yep. One very important question."

Keitaro looked at them in confusion. "What question?"

Hitani asked first. "Does this mean we can try our luck with the others now?"

Keitaro slapped his forehead in frustration. "They'd kill you both and you know it."

"Aw, come on, Keitaro! Unlike you, we have our systems down pat," Haitani boasted.

"We have the _moves_, man. We've been holding back, thinking we were doing you a favor, but if you're already settled then it's _our _turn to test the waters." Shirai said confidently.

'_Like lambs to the slaughter,_' Keitaro thought to himself. Mitsune simply shook her head and chuckled. Their lack of confidence, however, did nothing to deter the deranged dynamic duo across the table, so Keitaro said to them quietly, "Look: don't try anything stupid, alright? I don't want to be going to your funerals."

"Duly noted…" Shirai answered.

"…but not really needed," Haitani finished with a smirk.

Keitaro shook his head '_Well, you've been warned, my friends,_' he thought to himself with resignation. "Anyway," he said aloud, redoing his cloak's collar and shifting the hood back in place, "There's one thing I need to ask of you two, as a friend."

"What can we do for you, and what can we call you now that you've become our group's resident super-dude?" Haitani asked smoothly.

"Huh?" Keitaro looked at them, confused.

"It's like a Hero's Code or something, man," Shirai continued, and started counting off on his fingers, "You've got the powers, your own suit, sweet weapons, and a cape, but you still need a new _name,_ a new _identity_. Something cool, you know?"

Keitaro raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong with Keitaro?"

Haitani slapped his forehead. "Man, where has this guy _been _all these years? Haven't you ever read a comic book? Watched the Matrix? Anything like that? You need a _codename_, man! Something catchy." They both looked at him expectantly.

Keitaro paused. "Hmmm…I'd really have to think about that one, guys." Their heads dropped in abject frustration. "But I need you two to do me a big favor still: if you see any of my other tenants, do _not _tell them about…us…yet," he said, indicating himself and Kitsune. "It's going to be tricky enough to tell them myself, and I want to keep the collateral damage from the fallout to a minimum if at all possible, okay?"

His friends looked at one another, then at him. Haitani said, "On one condition: _we_ get to come up with a codename for you." Shirai nodded in quick agreement.

Keitaro sighed. "Alright, fine. But I still get to pick and choose from what you come up with."

"And I get final approval, too," Mitsune chimed in, drawing a surprised look from Keitaro.

"Not a problem!" Shirai said. "Leave the thinking to the professionals!"

"Alright, then," Keitaro said, getting up.

"Hey! Where ya goin?" Haitani asked him.

"To drop off my tray and plates to get washed, and to find someone that knows what the heck I'm supposed to be doing next," Keitaro said as Mitsune joined him. "I honestly can't tell you what that's going to be."

"Whoa, now, hold on a minute," Shirai said, stopping them. "You aren't going _anywhere_ without us."

Keitaro looked at them in mild surprise. "Guys, I wouldn't really advise that, it could be really dangerous—"

"Of course it is," Haitani replied, "But that doesn't mean we're just backing out into some quiet corner to let you have all the fun."

"Yeah! Besides which, we want our own gear!"

"And guns! I'm not sitting around like a duck; if someone's gonna be shooting at us, I at least oughtta be able to shoot back."

"You _owe _us that much, you know. They yanked us off the street because of you."

"You _know _you'd be hopeless without some backup."

"Alright, okay, I get it," Keitaro conceded, but didn't back down. "You're both nuts, you know that?"

"Why, 'cause we're crazy enough to help out a friend, or 'cause we think we've got a better chance at getting with one of your other tenants?"

"Or Haruka!"

Keitaro slapped his forehead. "Both, and then some. C'mon guys, this is serious. I don't know all that we're up against yet, but I _assure _you it's going to be incredibly dangerous. I'd rather you two not get hurt or killed on my account, alright?"

"Then we won't!" Shirai insisted. "And we won't take no for an answer, either."

Mitsune looked at her boyfriend. "I don't think they're gonna leave you alone any more than _I _am, Kei-kun," she said with a smirk. "Better get used to it."

Sighing with defeat, Keitaro relented. "Alright, fine. Let's get going, then."

As they brought the remains of their breakfast to the washing area (which turned out to be a wet conveyor belt leading into a back kitchen) and left the mess hall, Mitsune asked Keitaro in a quiet voice, "You think letting those two come up with a name for you is a good idea, Kei?"

He shook his head. "Not any more than letting them come along is, but it will give them something to do and make them happy," he said soberly. "Besides which, they're far better at the geek stuff than I am anyway. Not that that's saying very much, granted, but they're more into it than I am."

She giggled to herself. "Well, you've still gotta admit that being heroic has its perks sometimes."

He shook his head. "I just want to be me."

She smiled warmly. "Then don't worry: you're doing great so far, Keitaro."

* * *

A.N.: Right, then. Points of interest: the other two villains are in: Villerchek Dubate, a.k.a. Atrocity, and Merten Dripe, a.k.a. the Wraith. Of these, I'll tell you right off the bat that Atrocity is the worst and most powerful, while Wraith is more of a wildcard. Also (like anyone actually gives a smeg one way or another) these are the other two anagrammatic OCs; first one is three words of different lengths, second one is just one.

Title comes from a line in _Ghostbusters_; anyone that has seen that movie will get why.

Next time: new toys and revelations, reunions and confrontations galore. Plus, we learn the identity of the leader behind all this. Cheers.


	12. Ch12: ALWAYS Know Where Your Towel Is

Disclaimer: I do not own _Love Hina_. Same goes for _Cowboy Bebop_, _Halo_, _Trigun_, and any of the half a dozen or so other series and works I make direct and/or passing references to in the process of my pitiful, flailing attempts at decent creative writing. It's a miracle I'm even managing to get back into the groove of it, considering I've been newly and freshly employed over the past month and a half or so.

So smeg off, copyright lawyers, as I pull on whatever I damn well feel like in order to tell my story and any other I feel like writing. I make my money doing actual work, not writing fan fiction.

A.N.: I apologize to any who were waiting for this (and future) chapters to come out. I've had most of this one done for a while now, but unfortunately the downside of getting hired at a new job is that you have very little time to work with. Hence, this got shoved to the side for the last few months.

Now that said job is practically over, I have time to write again. Joy! I think I will be finishing this fic in the near eventual future, things are building to that point after all. I don't know how many chapters it will take, but I think it will be at least a few more depending on how the story flows when I write it. Once it's finished, I had a couple more interesting ideas to work with for fics, including a Neon Genesis Evangelion crossover of epic proportions and surprising connection with another series that takes up a great deal of my time, as well as an (epic, of course) modern take on the Legend of Zelda that could become very interesting indeed…but we'll see how it goes.

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Chapter 12: _Always_ Know Where Your Towel Is

Naru had barely slept the entire night. Twice, it had been noises coming from the room next door to her, currently occupied by Motoko, that had jarred her awake; but what the swordmaiden was doing over there at three in the morning wasn't what kept her up most of the night.

Like her other housemates, this was the second night she'd spent in what she thought was a horribly cramped excuse for a room. For all the things that had been wrong with her own attic-level room in the Hina-Sou, she had at least had adequate space. Now, she had a room half taken by the bed, which was pretty small to begin with. She knew little more about this place than she had when they'd arrived the previous night, tired and a little intimidated by all the secrecy and heavy artillery being carried about. That both Haruka and Motoko's sister, Tsuruko, were not only a part of the whole crazy setup but were high-ranking and important members to boot had been a shock, as neither she nor Motoko had ever heard of any of it until now.

It hadn't ended there, either; by noon of the next day, she'd already seen a number of people she knew, or that one of the other girls knew. They'd met up with Kaolla Su's sister, Amalla Su, and their "brother," Lamba Lu (whom Naru had almost mistaken for Keitaro from behind, only to find out otherwise a moment later—luckily before she'd done anything to him); then it had been Mutsumi Otohime, who had unfortunately been just as surprised and in the dark as Naru herself; and toward the evening, she'd even spotted what had to have been Keitaro's two best friends walking down a hall like mismatched twins. She hadn't managed to ask them yet, but given the fact that they would be even more likely to be hanging around Keitaro than anyone else she knew of (and weren't), she was willing to guess they hadn't seen him, either.

None of them, in fact, had seen either Keitaro or Kitsune since they'd arrived. Haruka had assured her that a message to come had been sent to them and that she expected they would be there by the evening. After waiting for hours, they still hadn't come. Others had, however; in groups of one or more, people had been arriving all day at a great rate, and the place was becoming increasingly crowded. Not all came in the best of shape, either; many had injuries of one kind or another, and when she'd accidentally found the place's medical ward, she'd seen quite a few more getting treated for everything from scrapes and burns to gunshot wounds. With each hour, the mood got a little grimmer about the place, and her own dread had only increased when Haruka, wearing the heavy S.W.A.T.-style gear of the fortress's makeshift little army, had sent her and the others to get rest half an hour before midnight, saying only that she'd be waiting for them when they arrived.

Yet her sleep had been fitful at best; much though she tried to ignore it, the fact that two of her friends, one which she didn't trust around girls at all and the other she would be lucky to fully trust at all with a lot of things, were off somewhere together with armed thugs prowling about, looking for at least one of them in particular.

In the morning, she had all but murdered her alarm clock without realizing it. By the time she awoke again, breakfast had already ended. Scowling to herself for oversleeping, she realized the only thing that had awoken her was a loud, insistent knock on her door.

"Who is it?" she asked grumpily as she fumbled her way to the door.

"It's me, Motoko. Are you awake?" the swordmaiden's voice answered through the barrier.

Sighing, Naru replied, "I guess I am now." She opened the door to find her friend in a somewhat disheveled-looking black outfit. Her eyes looked a little red and bleary, like she hadn't slept well, either. A bag was in her hands, a small whisp of steam coming out the top.

"I took note that you had not arisen this morning with the others, and may not have eaten breakfast," Motoko said, "and so gained permission to bring you some instead. The mess hall closed a short while ago."

Rubbing her eyes, Naru said, "Uhh…yeah, I didn't really sleep well last night. Thank you for grabbing this, though, I appreciate it. How was yours?"

"I ate my meal quite late. My rest was…somewhat lacking as well," she admitted. "May I speak with you a moment, while you eat?"

Naru's stomach rumbled slightly. "Sure. Go right ahead, Motoko."

Motoko nodded wordlessly, shutting the door behind her. As Naru gratefully accepted and dug into the food, she sat next to her, looking lost in thought for a moment.

"They are here," she said, finally.

Naru nearly choked on her food. "You mean…! When? Where!?"

"Late last night."

"How do you know?"

Motoko sighed, closing her eyes. "I…could feel his presence. His _ki_, I should say. I thought that he was nearby, but he was on the other side of the base. I was confused at first; I had understood from Haruka's explanation, and from the surveillance video, that he had not yet revealed more than a fraction of his _ki_'s full strength to us in person. Now…I can sense it almost anywhere in the base, and it has been fluctuating in strength greatly."

Naru was suddenly very awake. "Where is he? Where's Kitsune? Who was with them? Are they okay?"

Motoko motioned for her friend to calm down. "They are, to my knowledge, both here. I did not sense her until I had already met with Urashima-san himself. I do not know who brought them or how, but they were here shortly after midnight."

"What? When did you see him?" Naru asked, surprised.

"About three-thirty in the morning last night."

Naru blinked. Suddenly, the movements in Motoko's room were beginning to make sense to her. "I thought you said they were here after midnight."

"They were. I did not seek them out until later."

"Weren't they asleep by then?" she inquired incredulously.

"Yes, they were." Motoko looked down and away, suddenly. "Naru…remember when I told you yesterday that I could not take Haruka's word fully to heart concerning his actions toward us? That I did not trust her explanation?"

Naru nodded. "Yeah, and I told you I didn't buy it, either. Why? What about it?"

"I found out she was indeed telling the truth last night."

Naru blinked. "Huh? How?"

"Haruka-san told us he was capable of defending against our attacks if he so chose to do so at any time," Motoko said evenly, "but that he was unwilling to do so against one of us. I tested her claim by attacking him in disguise, at a time when he would not expect a confrontation to occur. If there was to be any truth in it, he would repel the assault and retaliate full force, viewing me as an assassin rather than as someone he knew."

Naru paled. "You did WHAT!? Are you crazy!? What if someone spotted you and thought you were an intruder or something? They could've shot you!"

"I took as much care as I could to ensure otherwise, Naru," Motoko assured her. "And I was not caught, not by them. I was willing to take that risk from the outset; I had to know for certain."

"So…what happened?"

"I tracked him to his room, intent on confronting him. Evidently…he sensed me coming, though as I'd hoped he did not know it was me. It surprised me that he was ready when I'd arrived, but I did not hold back in my attack. He was armed with what appeared to be an odd form of _dai-katana_, but he did not use it. He did not have to." She frowned, replaying the encounter in her mind for the hundredth time. "The moment I attacked, he…disarmed and threw me. By the time I had regained my feet, he recognized _Shisui_, and thus recognized me."

Naru was shocked. "You mean…you went all out, and he didn't even break a sweat!?"

"Yes. He defeated me essentially unarmed and without injury to either of us. By his bearing and skill in the encounter, I do not doubt that he would have done the same, regardless of the manner in which I attacked him. If he had wanted to…he could easily have killed me."

"How do you know?"

"It is…difficult to explain," Motoko said in a somewhat detached voice, "but it is a matter of comparison. The difference in skill between him and me was measured by direct comparison through battle, and though it pains me to admit it, his was the greater by a great margin, greater potentially than that between myself and my sister. Had he drawn his weapon, it may have been greater still."

"What did he do next?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all." Motoko sighed, a look of frustration appearing on her normally calm face. "Once he had _Shisui_, he knew who I was. He could easily have struck me down at that point, but he did not. He defeated me in level combat, and defeated my purpose for engaging him in it in one fell swoop. He returned me my weapon, and never drew his own. He…showed me the scars we have dealt him, Naru. He is covered in them."

"S-scars?" she asked, somewhere between disbelief and horror. "But he doesn't have any—"

"None that are readily visible, no. But you have not seen his chest, his back," Motoko replied quietly.

"What!? How perverted! Do you mean to tell me—"

"I had only a brief look at them, Naru. Considering the circumstances, perversion had little to do with it. I sought the truth, and he showed it to me. His limbs are relatively untouched, but his torso showed marks of proof too numerous for me to count."

Naru sat back, stunned. Motoko was a proud and skilled warrior capable of incredible feats with the sword; her sister was lightyears ahead of her in skill, to the point that she feared to take the woman on at all. By all rights, she should have easily shown up that _baka_, crazy though her idea to do it had been; yet from what she was now telling her, Keitaro was better than _both _her and her sister, sword or no! Never in her wildest dreams had she ever expected to hear Motoko make such outrageous claims, yet she knew the young Aoyama kendoist would never make them in jest. She was, as always, deadly serious.

And that meant both she _and _her friend had been wrong about him. They had judged him to be almost impossible to hurt but very easy to defeat, when it had been the other way around the entire time. She, herself, had known him to be kind and friendly, often to an exceptionally high degree. He was also about the clumsiest pervert known to mankind! And yet…if he had, as Motoko said, been so able to stop their punishments, why hadn't he? Even Naru had to admit to herself that there were times he had not been truly in the wrong, and yet even then, he'd been the one to apologize afterward.

How many times had he come back, hunched over and apologetic to the two of them alone? Had Motoko's sword really cut him that often? Had her punch done as much damage to him than to the Hinata? It was a scary thought; so many parts of the building had been rebuilt so many times from him going through them, it was a wonder there was anything left of it that hadn't been!

And now she knew for certain that he'd been doing the same thing to himself.

She didn't know how to feel, at first. Rage and regret boiled and battled within her, neither gaining the upper hand. She wanted to find him, beat him to a pulp for lying to them, for hiding these things about himself for so long. Yet at the same time, she began to comprehend just how much of it had been her own fault for doing exactly that all too often. Fear sliced through her, as she realized he could easily kill her for her actions at any time. Relief and guilt flooded her when she realized he would not, that he would most likely forgive her for them immediately if she asked, that in all likelihood he'd already done so long ago.

Motoko sat by her, saying nothing but watching the emotions play over Naru's face. Finally, she said, "Though it may be of little comfort to you, I thought you should at least know what I have learned. I am sorry."

For a moment, she said nothing, staring ahead into space. "It's all true, isn't it?" she finally asked.

"There is now no doubt in my mind. Do you recall the shirt? "

"What shir…oh, right. _That _shirt." She frowned, uncomfortable.

"The _freshest_ scar on his chest that I saw matches the angle and size of the cut on that shirt exactly. It is not the only example that could be made, either."

Naru shuddered. "You…he…but…?"

Motoko looked visibly shaken, the memory of what she'd seen replaying yet again in front of her eyes. "We have hurt him, Naru, more times than I can count. He hides the marks well, and heals them better than most, but they are there, and we are the ones that put them there."

For a long time, the two were silent, lost in their own thoughts and epiphanies.

At least, until Naru remembered one, small question that had been bugging her.

"What about Kitsune?"

Motoko frowned. "I…cannot say for certain. She was nearby when I encountered Urashima-san. It is difficult to say where, exactly; at close proximity, his _ki _was too powerful to clearly sense that of others through accurately. At the time, I was not exactly focusing upon Mitsune's presence, either. However…"

Naru looked at her curiously. "However _what?_"

"There were…oddities that I noted. Unless I am mistaken, she was awake at the time as well. There was…concern in her aura. It was unusual for her, and notable. But the moment he had returned to his quarters, the concern dissipated."

"Huh? Was she watching from another doorway or something?" Naru asked, confused.

Motoko shook her head. "No…and unless I am mistaken, the doors are too thick to hear through clearly. Aside from Urashima-san, the hallway was empty, and no doors were opened save his own the entire time. The feelings seemed…too directed, too specific to be mere coincidence. It was almost as if…but no, it does not make sense to me."

"What are you saying? What doesn't make sense?"

"The only explanation for it I can think of…is that they were in the same room together."

"_**WHAT!?!?**_"

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Seated outside the mess hall, Noriyasu Seta was casually cleaning an extra Magnum Research Baby Eagle handgun he'd managed to pick up with his other gear when he'd visited the armory the previous night.

He smiled lightly to himself. It had been a pretty busy night, granted, what with getting everything organized for today. Still, he'd have done this basic servicing last night, but he had been in no mood to pick that task over the one Haruka had set him to, in private. Normally, he was too dense, busy, and distracted with everything to really clue in on what she wanted, often to his own detriment.

Last night, thankfully, it hadn't been one of those times. Or two.

Or three, counting the early morning as well.

His own personal firearm was already reloaded and ready at his side. The Baby Eagle was practically identical to his own Jericho in every regard; save for a slight difference in its finish and the name on the side, it _was _the same gun. Parts of his own model even incorporated parts made for this second gun, a necessity dictated by the caliber of bullet he was using.

He still preferred his own, but at least he wouldn't notice any difference in a firefight when he used them.

Cocking and testing the hammer on the empy firearm once more, he loaded a fresh clip with bullets in one hand and checked the iron sights of the weapon with the other, carefully looking down the barrel with his finger off the trigger. As he rotated his line of sight across the opposite wall, he saw the doorways to the mess hall open outwards and lifted the mock aim to the ceiling instead.

Satisfied, he clicked the full clip in place and holstered the weapon at his opposite side. He'd already traded up his old vest for a stripped-down version of the fortress's custom riot gear; he'd left out both the helmet and the uniform, opting instead for his usual semi-formal attire underneath and a long, specially made labcoat overtop. He'd moved his sword to his back, and used the better-organized pouches, pockets, and clasps of his borrowed gear to store much of the rest.

Officially, he wasn't a full ranking member of the base's guard forces; his specialty was still rooted in the field and under it, so-to-speak.

Either way, they still trusted him with their best toys anyway.

About a minute later, he saw two people he'd been waiting for leave the oversized cafeteria with two others he didn't immediately recognize in tow, both grinning and arguing at a great rate with each other. The former pair stood fairly close together, one concealed in the cloak Seta had sent him, the other much less; the latter pair could have been brothers.

"Ah, there you are!" he addressed them immediately. "Good morning to you both, and to your friends, unless I am mistaken?"

"You are not mistaken, Seta-san," Keitaro replied cheerfully. "These two jokers are Shirai and Haitani from my school. Guys, this is Professor Noriyasu Seta of Toudai."

The two turned to regard Seta with surprised looks. "This the guy that brought you here?" Haitani asked.

"What…exactly is he a professor _of? _Tactical warfare?" Shirai inquired.

"Archaeology!" Seta said proudly. "I do a lot of field work in ancient ruins. Unfortunately, they can be quite the magnet for all sorts of belligerent visitors after the contents and secrets they contain. Which," he added, "is the reason we're here, ready to fight off a small army. Among worse things."

Both Haitani and Shirai gulped. "Ahh, 'scuse me, professor? That's really great and wonderful to say when you've got something to fight with," Haitani commented. "Unfortunately, my partner-in-crime here and I don't generally carry anything bigger than a rubber band and a sharpened pencil, not normally."

Seta scratched his chin in brief thought. "Hmmm…that could be rectified, but…what do you think, Keitaro? Could these two shoot a gun to save their lives?"

"Realistically speaking?" Keitaro asked rhetorically. "I'm inclined to say no..."

"_Hey!_"

"…but they ought to be geared up anyway. Actually, they're pretty good with electronics and gadgetry; it might be better if they handled something with more buttons than triggers."

"…alright, I'll give him that one," Shirai muttered.

Seta grinned. "That could actually be arranged. Come with me!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

At first, they thought it was a joke.

Seta had led them quite some distance across the base to a large doorway with thick pneumatic doors, with a sign above it reading "TOY BOX" in several languages. "The heck is this!?" Shirai asked.

"This," Seta said as he punched in a code to open the sealed doors, "is where we keep the good stuff."

He wasn't kidding, either. The doors slid open to reveal a long, densely stocked chamber, a veritable mosoleum of modern weaponry.

Mitsune blinked, shook her head, then blinked again. "Holy shit," she muttered.

Here, it seemed, was the busiest place in the entire complex. There were weapons of every model, make, size, and description everywhere: rows upon rows of pistols, shotguns, rifles, SMGs, and explosives lined the walls; rows of the riot armor in several variants and every size from midget to massive were arranged in organized columns. In the back, an entire section was devoted solely to weapons and devices so unusual and complex that many had explanatory signs mounted on their racks to describe their uses.

Everywhere, there were people armed to the teeth with everything imaginable, or else that were in the process of becoming as such.

"Welcome to the armory," Seta said.

"Now I get why they called it the Toy Box," Haitani half-drooled. "They just didn't say what kind!"

"Mind if we look around?" Shirai asked.

Seta checked his watch. "I suppose we can browse for a little while. Not too long though, and before you start drooling you all need some armor first and foremost. You too, Mitsune; I think you'll want something with sleeves this time."

Mitsune laughed. "Got that right!"

"Out of curiosity, Seta," Keitaro asked, a wary look coming over his face, "exactly how _many _of these bad guys are we going to be dealing with? There's enough here to fight "

"Not sure, myself. No one is, to be honest. The problem is that there are several major groups out there; we'll be facing at least one, but they have their own rivals as well, and a large mobilization won't go unnoticed by them. That may be to our advantage in some regards when you consider they don't get along at all, but it will mean more bullets coming our way as well as theirs." He frowned suddenly. "It's not them I'm as worried about; it's some of the _leaders _that are the biggest concern, especially for you. They will be after you more than anything or anyone else. To them, the rest of us are just in the way."

Keitaro frowned. "So all of them are getting ready to attack as one?"

"If not each other as well, in the process." Seta sighed. "I'm sorry you have to go through all this, by the way. I know you aren't particularly keen on this sort of conflict"

Keitaro shook his head. "Don't be, it's not your fault."

"Unfortunately, in a small way…it is," Seta said in a low voice.

"W-what do you mean?" Keitaro asked, confused.

"Well, who do you think found that suit? That sword?" Seta asked pointedly. "I've spent the better part of my career hunting strange and powerful things like that, Keitaro, in the interest of adventure and scientific discovery if nothing else. But there is all too often a good reason to build secret chambers, hidden ruins, and several dozen deadly traps between such things and the outside world, better than safeguarding an ancient treasure."

"What reason is that?"

"To saveguard the world against the treasure itself."

Mitsune frowned. "Why'd you dig it up, then?"

Seta chuckled. "Unfortunately…because I didn't have much choice in the matter. If I had not, there would be others that might have after me. I could not trust that those things wouldn't fall into the wrong hands and cause catastrophe, not unless I made sure it fell into the right ones first." His expression became blank, almost haunted. "And that came at a high cost, even then. A cost that could mount rather quickly soon, if we aren't careful. Come on, let's get ourselves ready."

Three riot-gear vests of various sizes were quickly picked out and strapped on. Mitsune found hers to be quite heavy and a little less flattering than the vest had been (though Keitaro, for one, still thought it did), but didn't say anything about it out loud. Keitaro, meanwhile, found something quite interesting and useful: a powerful magnetic harness specially made for wearing an equally interesting Mossberg 590A-1 12-gauge shotgun. He tried it on; it was specially made to fit on the back, holding the gun comfortably between his shoulder blades even through the fabric of his cloak. As he considered how uncomfortably he was currently bearing the shoulder-strapped weapon under his cloak, he decided to give it away in trade.

"I'm going to trade up a bit here," he said aloud to the group, pulling the Remington off his shoulder." "Does anyone want this—"

"Shotgun!" Haitani called, the moment Keitaro offered the gun up.

"Shotgun! Dangit!" Shirai said a moment too late. Laughing to himself, Keitaro gave up the twelve-gauge to Haitani, who accepted it with a distinct air of smug satisfaction as he went off to find himself a Rambo-style shoulder belt for holding extra shells.

Now, only Shirai was unarmed. Looking around at the vast array of arms around him, he searched for something unique.

A moment later, in a long, sideways rack among a variety of unusual and experimental devices, he found it.

"Uh…what the heck is _that _thing?" Haitani asked, when his friend came back wearing a large, bulky pack with a corded rifle-like attachment on the side.

"Dunno, but it looked pretty damn cool. Sign said it was a prototype portable proton-acceleration beam projector or some such. It's supposed to shoot a charged plasma beam of some sort."

Seta raised an eyebrow. "You know, I have a friend in the Physics Department at Toudai that was working on something like that. I guess he must have finished it."

"How's it work?" Shirai asked, looking at the various buttons and control knobs on the hand-held portion of the device.

"Well enough to scorch a twenty foot-long gouge along the wall of my office!" Seta replied with a chuckle. "At least, the one he showed me did. You'd have to ask him how to use it, though; I'm not really sure what the controls do, and I'm not about to risk my tenure again trying to find out like the last time!"

"Sweeeet!" Shirai grinned, much to everyone's dismay. '_That's it, we're all gonna die,_' Haitani privately thought. He couldn't shake the feeling he'd seen something like it before, but he couldn't remember where…

Shirai only looked eager to find the guy that made it as quickly as possible, and didn't look like he would take no for an answer.

Keitaro asked Seta, "What exactly did your friend make those things for, anyway?"

Seta shrugged. "He works in experimental nuclear physics, but he does Modern Foreign Culture courses on the side. He's also a decent inventor, though considering his background I'm not so sure that's a good thing oftentimes. That, in particular, I think he was working on as a possible weapon to help the _Shinmei-ryu _school with confrontations with Oni spirits, I think. Apparantly, it's supposed to help weaken or restrain the more difficult ones they have to confront on occasion; something about it interfering with their unusual psychokinetic energies in a particular way."

Keitaro considered this for a moment. "Hmmm…that kind of reminds me of a movie I saw once…wait, don't tell me that thing actually _works _like that!"

Seta shrugged, "Close enough, I guess. Comedians or no, they _did_ do their research when they wrote it. I'm more surprised that Heihachiro-san actually managed to come up with that many working prototypes."

"Well, what about the sort of enemies we've got coming now?" he asked.

"Hmmm…I think something like that might prove effective enough. The one I saw shot a visible stream of energy about two inches wide in a continuous manner. Actually, by the looks of your friend there, I'd say it would be more ideal than something he'd have to be able to aim properly to be effective."

Keitaro nodded. "Good point. I don't think I've seen either of those two shoot anything outside of a computer game."

A few minutes later, they were armed and ready with everything they would need. Seta took them along even further, keeping his distance from the pack (and its worrisome carrier) as they went. To onlookers, they were an odd sight among odd sights: a professor with a cigarette and a heavy arsenal, a man shrouded by a cloak with a large shotgun stuck to the material; a woman with her eyes half-shut that somehow managed to pull of a somewhat svelte look even in thick protective gear; a smug-looking nerd with another shotgun and a long chain belt of extra shells strapped across his chest for good measure; and his shorter, rounder counterpart sporting what looked like a small portable nuclear reactor for a backpack, still dangerously fiddling with the controls of its projection cannon at random.

Even so, no one really gave them more than a second look; equally strange and varied groupings were to be seen all over the place. On top of that, most were quite busy with business of their own.

They were, after all, all preparing for the fight of their lives.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In the fortress's nerve center, where all the weapons, communications, surveillance, and tactical readouts were controlled, there was one person who had been long prepared for the fight ahead, and was currently little concerned with the details of the final steps. There were about twenty others in the room to keep track of them, anyway; the leader had hand-picked each and every one of them to do the job right.

The leader, at that moment, was more concerned with the video feeds of two security cameras positioned to record all that happened in two particular hallways, both in the sleeping quarters from two separate wings of the base.

So, too, were the two female commanders standing at either side of the leader's chair.

The feeds were not live, but recorded from the previous night. Specifically, they showed a most unusual event that took place within the span of half an hour, several hours before dawn.

The commander on the left was stone-faced, but her fist clenched dangerously at her side. The one on the right watched with a mixture of interest, concern, and bemusement as she lit a fresh smoke.

"It would seem," the leader spoke to the one on the right, "that one of the girls did not take your advise fully to heart, Haruka."

Haruka simply snorted and shook her head. "I'd have been more surprised if they all had. But that wasn't what I found most interesting about it. Watch what happens when she actually gets there."

They kept watching, and the figure from the first feed appeared in the second. As they watched her approach the door of perhaps the most important person in the compound with sword drawn, he calmly stepped out of the shadow behind her.

Haruka paused the video. "Just so you both know," she commented, "neither of them was hurt in any way that I can see in all of this. Unfortunately, we don't have audio on the security cams in these areas, so I'm afraid I'm not sure what was spoken between the two afterward. However…"

She resumed the video, and the covered figure attacked, only to be quickly and harmlessly thrown and disarmed.

The rage of the left commander became almost palpable at this point. "After all that has happened, she has the audacity to do it again!?"

"You know as well as I do, Tsuruko, how stubborn your sister can be. At the very least, she is determined to stick to what she believes in, until she knows for herself otherwise. That much, she shares with you, anyway."

Tsuruko was about to retort, but the leader stopped her. "Patience, young one. We have already discussed the matter of your sister at great length, have we not?"

"We have agreed only to overlook her past behavior in light of recent events," Tsuruko replied angrily, "but I have _not _said that I will stand by and tolerate her continued misbehavior in this regard. She endangers many lives with such acts as this, including her own; I cannot allow her to proceed so dishonorably, if only for the sake of the _Shinmei-ryu _school she is to inherit. You know this."

"All too, well, Tsuruko. Yet I still must side with Haruka in this matter, if only for his sake. Remember that it is still his prerogative to decide what action to take in response, and he has been quite clear in his wishes thus far. Observe!"

Indeed, the words rang true. There was Urashima himself, now armed with both his own, undrawn weapon and that of his assailant, clearly quite capable of any number of retaliatory measures against her, and yet he made no gesture of attack. Even after his assailant revealed her identity, he did not seek retribution. Astoundingly, he was offering the blade back to her, with the blade in position to do himself the most harm and her the least. Nor did he go to draw his own weapon, but rather removed his shirt to reveal the mess of scars that covered much of his torso.

The effect was enough to startle the feed's viewers, save for Haruka, who had already seen it. "My thoughts exactly," she said.

If the leader was angry, it didn't show. Tsuruko, on the other hand, was both stunned and enraged by the sight. "How many of those were the work of my sister, Haruka?" she demanded.

"I don' think he's keeping count, Tsuruko," Haruka replied, "or he'd have reciprocated in like kind by now."

"As would have many, in his place," the leader noted. "And yet though he is in the position to do so, he does not."

"Clearly," Tsuruko agreed, "but he is not one that would; otherwise, he would not be here. Be that as it may, my sister's actions are still inexcusable. I will deal with this matter myself."

Before anyone could stop her, Tsuruko silently stormed off to find her sister, a look of righteous hell burning in her eyes.

'_Dammit!_' Haruka thought, moving to go stop her before all hell broke loose. To her surprise, the leader's hand restrained her. "Let her go, Haruka; she will not learn what her sister has by our words alone."

"It's not her I'm worried about."

"I know that, child," she said. "But fret not; if nothing else is made crystal clear by what you have shown us, it is that Keitaro will go to any length to ensure the safety of those in his care, even when the danger is from one of them."

"And what if he gets himself caught between those two when they are at each other's throats?" Haruka asked.

The leader chuckled. "He is tough, my dear, tougher than we know. He has already faced one of them down; I doubt that he will fare any differently between them both as he is now."

Haruka frowned. "You're taking an awfully big risk here, you know."

"Oh? I do not believe it to be so great a risk as that. You know as well as I do that he will not allow harm to come to either of them if he can help it, and he is quite able to help it now, don't you think?"

Haruka thought for a moment, then chuckled. "Yeah…I guess you're right about that much. Then again, you always did had a knack for pegging the right risks to take, didn't you?"

"Which reminds me!" the leader said, voice full of sudden amusement. "I believe there was a small matter concerning _another _risk that has, I believed, fallen in my favor?"

Haruka snorted derisively, reaching for her purse and slowly digging through it. "Should've known you'd peg it right in the end, huh?" she muttered as she began counting out the bills, an eye on the scenes now playing out on the security monitors not far from the control room. She lost count at one point as she watched, much to the leader's amusement.

Somewhere around thirty-four thousand Yen of her second count, several powerful rumbling explosions interrupted her. "_Shit! _They're here!" Haruka cursed aloud, tossing the purse aside. "I'll pay it later. We've got company to deal with!"

The wizened old face of the leader smiled warmly, almost sentimentally, then grinned with a fire full of lively power. "Well, then…let's give them a warm welcome, shall we?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Normally, Keitaro had a fairly good sense of impending danger coming his way. He wasn't very good at avoiding it most of the time, of course, and had learned on a subconscious level that avoidance often made the end result even worse.

Of course, he could hardly call wearing a suit of armor that boosted every aspect of his being beyond what he ever thought was possible in an underground fortress next to someone he could legitimately call his girlfriend, marching off to face hordes of dangerous and relatively unknown enemies that could strike at any moment (not to mention facing the inevitable reactions of his remaining tenants) a very _normal _case scenario. Still, in all the craziness of the past week he was slowly beginning to feel more in his element than he'd ever been, as though he was coming into position for a role he'd been born and raised to fill.

When he felt the danger coming, he could damn near _taste_ the subtleties and character of each distinct threat. In a span of time shorter than normal human reaction time, he already knew the combination was just about as bad as it could get.

They were approaching an intersection of paths, a main hub of the base's activity by all accounts. Two paths branched off into separate wings of the compound, another to its controlling headquarters, a fourth to its rear. The wings angled off to the straight path from rear to fore they were now on, and danger was now coming on all sides but behind them. The first danger was to himself and Kitsune, a very specific and focused anger charging toward them from the left at the sight of the latter. The second was more coincidental, a danger of someone he knew well getting caught in the impending crossfire about to erupt where the paths met. A third came before them, but not directed at them in particular; this danger was extreme, its focus on someone following the first danger on the left path and somehow related to himself.

Worst of all, a fourth danger of intractable malice to everyone around him now gathered from above, and though it was by far the slowest in arrival of all it would soon become the worst.

Vaguely, he wondered how his luck managed to pull him into such hellish spots in the first place.

The feeling, apparently, did not go unnoticed. Next to him, Mitsune sensed the change in his demeanor at once. "You alright, Kei-kun?"

He shook his head. "No; Kitsu-chan, we have five seconds to major hell, brace yourself!"

Surprise registered on her features briefly, but she recovered just in time to mentally prepare to face what her boyfriend knew was coming. "Okay, but what—"

Without warning, something latched on to her midsection with surprising strength, instantly squeezing the breath out of her. "Yer back! Hiya Fox-lady!!"

Simultaneously, a blur of blond pigtailed hair passed directly in front of her at high speed, nearly knocking her over backwards in spite of the extra weight attached to her torso. "PAPA!" the blur yelled with a familiar voice, making a beeline for the man next to them.

"_Gaaaack!_ Hi, Su…" Mitsune managed to say. Even with thick bulletproof material surrounding her ribcage, Kaolla Su's bearhugs were still incredibly strong. Sarah, meanwhile, was pulling a similar stunt with her adoptive father. Shinobu was approaching from the same direction the other two had come as well.

Keitaro, still concealed by his cloak, hung off to the side at the moment; glad as he was to see his tenants alive and well once more, his focus was not on them at the moment, but rather on the fact that they were the second, indirectly threatented danger.

"KITSUNE! WHERE IS THAT _BAKA HENTAI_, AND WHY WERE YOU IN HIS ROOM!?" an all-too familiar voice was yelling from the other wing. He didn't even need to look to know Naru was barging past bystanders like a freight train toward them with near-murderous intent. In such a state, it wouldn't take long for her to recognize him even in his abnormal attire, though at the moment her focus was entirely on Kitsune.

Even as he prepared to face this first, impending threat, the third was rapidly closing in. Had he not met the older of the Aoyama sisters, he might have sworn he was seeing double; Motoko followed close behind Naru, for once not nearly as angry as her friend, but Tsuruko came like an approaching storm down the front path. If Naru was in the mood to kill at the moment, the _Shinmei-ryu _master was prepared to level buildings.

When he saw this third source of danger, Keitaro realized in a flash that everyone standing nearby was in immediate peril: Kitsune would soon be staring down the end of Naru's fist, Motoko was walking straight into deadly peril, his other friends were blindly wandering into the crosshairs of forces they weren't prepared to face or survive, and he was the only hope any of them had of surviving the onslaught before everyone had to turn and face the one danger that threatened to consume them all sooner than they could know.

And that meant he had to act now, to face down and neutralize a three-way battle in its tracks. For the sake of their own safety, he would have to do things that he had so desperately tried to avoid having to do for their own protection, things that put them at a mild but definite risk he had, until then, been unwilling to voluntarily put them in himself.

A second, at most, was all he had to decide.

For once in his life, he faced the choice he had avoided so long directly and made it with half a second to spare.

He stepped into the central crossing point, directly in front of all parties concerned, and swept his arms backward. As he did, his cloak billowed away from him with a gentle but irresistable wave of his _ki_. He didn't need to watch as surprise slowly registered on the faces of his girlfriend, his friends, his mentor, and his youngest tenants, each lifted off their feet by the force of his push and moved just far enough out of the way for him to act without further endangering them. As he did, Naru nearly froze in surprise mid-punch, her aim not directed toward him, but toward where Mitsune had been standing. But like a dam bursting, her momentum could not be stopped, and Keitaro's hand was already lightly gripping behind her extended wrist, guiding its path in a circular trajectory around him to send her almost directly back the way she came, also out of the way.

Motoko froze as she reached the center of the intersection a mere step away from him; Naru practically flew past her, landing on the ground in a graceless but otherwise harmless roll. Before the young swordmaiden could think of how to react, her own instincts told her what Keitaro already knew of the third threat, and long hours of hard training shifted her focus to face it.

She realized it was her sister's battle cry her ears were hearing barely half a second before she saw the distinctive aerial distortion of a massive, perfectly performed _Shinmei-ryu_ style secret _ki _attack technique, its razor-sharp force aimed straight at her. She didn't have time to prepare herself , to parry or brace for the blow, though her body was already moving to draw _Shisui _to make the attempt anyway. Though she could not will herself to move any faster, she saw in slow-motion the incoming attack and her own inability to meet it in time. It simply wasn't humanly possible, it seemed, and her mind had a fraction of a second to analyze and accept the small but fatal failure…

And just as suddenly, there was another blade, longer than her own and moving with its wielder at a speed that seemed incredibly fast even from the standpoint of slowed time. The weapon's unusually long arc matched the angle of the oncoming blast perfectly; to her utmost surprise, it _absorbed _the full force of the matterless strike before it could reach her.

'_What!?_' was all she could think to herself at the unexpected rescue; the figure in front of her was both familiar and unfamiliar, a dark-colored cloak flowing around exotically designed heavy armor as the beautiful but bizarre blade that had just saved her neck flashed through the air. Belatedly, she realized it was the same figure that had thrown Naru, the same from which seven people had suddenly and inexplicably been driven back and away from. Her mind had only milliseconds to ponder the figure's identity, to start making the connection with one possibility that mere days ago would have seemed completely absurd to her, if not downright impossible, before seeing the swiftly moving form of her sister closing the distance faster than she would have thought possible.

This time, she almost had enough time to raise her weapon to her own defense, to prepare to meet the physical cut her sister was moving to inflict. But once again, the figure managed to surprise them both as his gauntleted arm, still holding the long blade it wielded, stopped Motoko's blade with the plates of his armor; simultaneously, the other held the back edge of his blade, angling it just in time to block and stop Tsuruko's strike.

Surprise registered on Tsuruko's face in the brief instant that the blades clashed, just long enough for the still-hooded form to yell in a familiar but surprisingly firm voice, "STOP THIS NOW!"

Finally, it clicked for everyone what was going on. The hood of Keitaro's cloak had fallen back just enough to reveal an expression of razor-sharp concentration on his face, the look of a warrior far more dangerous and powerful than they knew.

Still pressing hard against his blade, Tsuruko growled, "This is not your concern, Urashima-san. This is between myself and Motoko. Stand aside!"

A hard, angry expression crossed Keitaro's face just then, a look born of long pain and frustration that finally came to the surface. "_Don't you get it yet!?_" he practically snarled. "This has always _**been **_my damn concern!!" In one swift motion, he spun, angling Motoko's blade to the right and Tsuruko's to the left in such a way that both were sent spiraling head-over-heels around him.

In the meantime, Naru had regained her feet, if not her previous focus. The identity of the man that had so quickly thrown her away from the goal of her attack was only just beginning to register with her, producing a white hot rage quelled only by a sudden, fearful panic as her mind caught up with her situation. She had spent the last five minutes searching for both Keitaro and Mitsune, ready to pummel either or both of them for what she could only assume was either his perversion gone unchecked, her friend's blatant betrayal of that which she herself had yet to accept, or both. Finding one, she had moved to attack, only for some overpowered bastard to stand in her way! She started to growl almost inaudibly, "You interfering little—_w-what!?_"

Before her rage could manifest again, his identity finally registered with her; the final maneuver he'd made had thrown his hood back completely, revealing fully the terrifying visage of determined power on the face she had never known to wear it.

"S-Sempai! Is that…_you??_" she heard Shinobu cry softly with a mix of surprise, fearful concern, and sudden wonderment from another direction, still sitting where she'd landed a moment earlier. Even now, her mind wanted to rebel, to refuse to accept what her own eyes told her plainly. To her shock and dismay, Naru now realized fully who had just stood in her way, who had effortlessly bested herself, Motoko, and Tsuruko all at once without harming any of them. Worse, as she saw him sheathe his blade and glance with a distinctly worried expression in the direction of Mitsune first and foremost, she was literally struck with full realization beyond even her own doubts why he had done so.

Keitaro Urashima stood before them now unveiled as he truly was, tall and strong amidst all that had happened around and because of him. The fierceness long gone from his expression, he now bore all that was within his heart with the razor-sharp clarity of his sword. All present could feel it as tangibly as they felt the ground beneath them, his emotions sweeping out across them like a flood after being held back and hidden so well for so long. As he had always done, it was himself that he laid before them now; standing between their anger and targets, the fighters and the bystanders, the strong and the vulnerable, he used his own, now fully armored and capable form to ward off the worst of the damage they could have just caused to one another. Whether it was himself or his suit that allowed the core of his being to become so tangible now, even he could not say. Glancing now from his girlfriend (perhaps the only one not completely surprised at all that had just transpired) to everyone else, he felt and projected his relief that none were hurt, that the sheer shock, speed, and nature of his actions before them had been enough to dispel the immediate threats for the moment. He sighed and closed his eyes, relief shifting to remorse. "Please…forgive me, everyone. I cannot stand by and let you hurt one another, whatever your reasons may be. I am the cause of it, _all _of it, and for that I am truly remorseful. If you must, attack me instead. I will not resist; I can take the blows and go on. You, however, cannot. We're all here to stay _alive _and fight off those that mean harm to us, the ones we care about the most, not kill one another before they get the chance!"

He looked at Tsuruko, whose murderously cold expression had faded to one of small wonder. "Your sister has already learned the truth of her actions without coming to harm, and I know now that you have seen what transpired or you would not be attacking her so. I understand your dismay, Tsuruko, but do not make the same mistake she has at her expense. I have paid dearly enough as it is to make sure my tenants do not come to harm; don't waste that so recklessly in anger! Don't force me to bring about something I've tried so hard to prevent!" He glanced at Naru, whose fury had passed into terror, and said, "It hurts me deeply to even _risk_ harming you, even to protect you from one another. But I will not stand by and let you do it, either, not even you, Naru Narusegawa. I know I am not nearly perfect, and that I often screw up quite badly, but I would rather die than let any of you get needlessly hurt. Please, don't take it all out on Mitsune; she is as much your friend as I am, and for all that she has done she doesn't wish you harm any more than I do. And whatever you may think, I have _never_ wished any of you harm, not even once. In fact…if anything, I've nearly died a hundred times over to keep that from happening. I'd do it all again until there was nothing of me left if I had to. When this is all over…when I can be sure that you will all be safe, then go ahead and kill me if you must, but for the love of everything that is good _don't kill each other in front of me!_"

As he finished speaking, the flood of emotion seemed to retract slowly back into itself, his being withdrawing back into the shell that was his body. As if breaking a spell, each person around him blinked and realized that they were in reality, and that the man before them was the very same he'd ever been: the same Keitaro Urashima that managed a girl's dorm at great personal cost, whose heart and clumsy nature got in the way of one another at the worst possible moments and caused him to suffer silently.

Keitaro, the berated "_baka hentai_" of the Hinata-Sou, sank to his knees before them and silently wept.

A moment, maybe two, passed as everyone returned to their own thoughts, each assimilating the recent experience in his or her own way.

It was all the time they had before the ground shook beneath their feet, and everything went to hell all at once around them.

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A.N.: This is only the beginning of the confrontations, my friends. I thought long and hard how I wanted to approach the last scene of this chapter, and in the end I felt that a "classic" (i.e. everyone at Keitaro's throat and each other's as well unchecked) approach is okay to start with, but not how I envisioned it ending up. Don't be fooled into thinking everything's hunky-dory now, though; I just needed to get it out in the open before things really start going apeshit.

Props to _Hitchhiker's Guide_ for the title idea, _Ghostbusters _for a half-joke, half-serious weapon for the hob—I mean, for Shirai, and to several of my reviewers for their input on the guns, particularly Ashengrave for the new shotgun for Keitaro (you're right, the thing looks a hell of a lot more awesome).

Seeing as how it's been several months, I doubt anyone's still paying attention anymore. Read and review if you can forgive me for it being so damn long.


	13. Ch13: Your Ass, My OrganoMetallic Foot

Disclaimer: If I owned it, wouldn't it have been more interesting than it now is? I'd like to think that maybe it would be, but alas! It was never meant to be. Ah, well; gotta love fanfiction, I guess.

A.N.: Action is ramping up this time around, and thus is my choice of ambient music. I'm thinking a combination of "7 minutes" from _Cowboy Bebop OST: Future Blues_, along with "Still More Fighting (a.k.a. Those Who Fight Further or The Summoning)" from (specifically) _Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII_).

I've finally worked out enough of a framework of ideas in my mind to know where I want to take the rest of this story, and how to get there. All I can tell you is this: there's a more fully developed version of an OC I only briefly mentioned last chapter, and the fruition of my ideas concerning the villains are making one even nastier, one much more dangerous and involved in the eventual outcome, and one much more terrifying than I ever thought I could make him.

Onwards.

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Chapter 13: Your Ass, My Mythic Organo-metallic Foot

Even to her own mentors, Tsuruko Aoyama had always been a difficult woman to read. Even at a level of skill where movement itself was a study in form and elegance, her innermost self was rarely revealed to anyone; the rare occasions that it did, however, were enough to throw everyone around her for a loop.

When she left her post and position in her clan's _Shinmei-ryu_ school as the heir apparent to its leadership, none within the clan could fully comprehend her reasons. She was a woman even more bound by her sense of duty and honor than her younger sister, and yet seemingly in the span of an instant she chose to leave it all but fully behind in pursuit of a married life. One could, she supposed to herself, almost pin the blame for her sister's pattern of behavior on that one, solitary act of defiance, the one time she could truly say she chose with her heart rather than her honor.

If truth were to be fully told, her anger towards Motoko was not specifically aimed for her wayward sibling, but rather toward herself. After all, as the eldest surviving member of their immediate family, the responsibility for Motoko's upbringing and future fell heavily upon Tsuruko's shoulders; moreover, though the future of their clan, the school, and everything they represented were no longer her burden to bear, they still pressed on her mind and soul as the future Motoko now faced.

One could easily surmise the general reason, therefore, that Tsuruko's fury so readily came down upon her younger sister's head, but not the reason why the normally poised and fully in-control swordmaiden would lose her composure so quickly in the process.

Guilt. Not Motoko's, but her own.

In the instant before the explosions began far above, before the alarm klaxons announced the coming battle facing each and every one of them, Tsuruko finally understood this about herself, the one person she could not fool forever and yet the one that needed her honesty most of all. It had come not of her own doing, though she had been ready to kill her sister a moment before, but through the actions of the young Urashima that stood in her murderous path. Keitaro, who alone among all of them had the sense to recognize the truth for what it was and the will to stand by it.

In a way, it put Tsuruko in the young man's debt for showing her what she had blinded herself to in the name of honor, for getting her attention long enough to let the fear in her younger sister's eyes register on her consciousness and resonate in her own being—long enough for it to show her how quickly she was following the same path paved with the best intentions straight to hell as her sister had been following for so long.

Like Motoko had done mere hours before, Tsuruko had finally seen the error in time to turn aside from that path and follow the one that led, with any luck, back out again.

But there was no time to ponder this change of outlook now, she knew. Now, she was back to her own duties to those around her as a commander in a secretive and purpose-laden force set against an onslaught of coming evils greater than many that she had faced, and she would have to save her thanks for him until later.

Forgiveness among allies was something that had to be assumed offhand in a battle and confirmed directly later; there simply wasn't time for it in between.

"_ALERT! ALERT! Enemy forces attempting entry through vehicular tunnels 3, 7, and 10. Outer blast doors of tunnels 7 and 10 have been breached. Enemy forces gathering outside Alpha supply route tunnel and are attempting entry. All primary and secondary gates at tunnel entrances have been sealed. Enemy will reach the first gates in less than five minutes. All forces, report to assigned battle stations immediately! All civilian and non-combat personnel report to nearest safe zone immediately! This is not a drill!_"

Tsuruko stood up immediately, her initiative to take charge overriding all else that had happened in an instant. "Seta-san! Take Urashima and Konno with you to the elevators and regroup with the forces there! Motoko, you're coming with me to the supply docks. Shirai-san and Haitani-san, you should go there later as well, but not now. We need the two of you to guard the rest back to the safe zone nearest the armory; make sure everyone without some sort of protective gear gets some before you head back. There should be more squads heading there by then; head there with one of them if you can. Stick together as long as possible, and stay alive. Understood?"

Still a little surprised by the sudden alert, everyone still spoke or nodded that they did.

Seta drew his Jericho and chambered the first round. "Keitaro, Mitsune, follow me! The rest of you follow Rambo and Spangler there, they know the way. You two," he said, looking directly at Haitani and Shirai, "make sure to keep the ladies safe; that's your job for now, so take it seriously! And if you can, find Professor Heihachiro, he should be organizing a group there. I haven't seen him yet, but I know he'll know how to work that thing on your back, Shirai."

"Got it. What does he look like?" Shirai asked.

Seta smirked slightly. "Don't worry, you'll know him when you see him; he's kind of hard to miss. But go now, and fight later!"

Both saluted him with all gusto, missing or ignoring the half joking tone of his voice as he instructed them. Keitaro shook his head; knowing the girls his two best friends were now assigned to "protect," he had to wonder whether Haitani and Shirai would be the ones in need of protection before very long!

'_Oh, well,_' he thought to himself as he watched them. '_At least they seem to be taking the task seriously._' It didn't stop him from praying, but it did make him feel slightly better; in spite of being more clueless than himself most of the time, they were still good, loyal friends to have. After all, it wasn't everyone that would stick their necks out like that for a friend, even _if _it meant they were getting a free excuse to hang around the likes of the Hinata ladies for their efforts. With any luck, they might even survive the upcoming encounter.

He just hoped the two of them would manage to survive the ladies themselves.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Excess was not a term Garhem Essade simply strove for; excess was a philosophy he practically _lived_ by.

For him, crime had always been the surest path to attaining excess in all areas of life, and he reveled in it like he reveled in his thoughts of what this latest venture would gain for him. Of all things Essade desired in excess, power came at the very top of his list, and he had garnered it in spades. Power over his men, those foolish little pawns that did his bidding for him, recruited and trained into his own private army; power over his resources, such that he could easily move whatever he wanted wherever he wanted it to do whatever he pleased, with enough influence to make the authorities turn a blind eye; power over evils greater than himself, like those selfish demonic bastards who were foolish enough to follow his bidding on the promise of gaining more power for themselves; power over women, whether willing or not, to make them satisfy his urges as he pleased…

Power to call himself the new king of the underworld, and power to swat off opposition to his claim like so many flies at a picnic. Even that wretched, inhuman mess of a man Dubate would think twice before showing his face before Essade's collective might as it was, at least as far as Essade himself was concerned; if all that he had learned about this object, this relic of power, was even remotely accurate, Dubate would be a fool to try once Essade had it in his hands.

Excess was the key to gaining that power, to expanding and maintaining it beyond the necessary to the point of extravagance. Essade had plenty of excess to spare: excess wealth to buy the toys and talent to raze his opposition at his command and whim; excess men to replace any that fell in droves as often as necessary; excessive planning and attention to detail, with methods and backup plans and rock-solid infrastructure such that the operations could essentially run themselves, even without his involvement.

Excess girls, gathered at random off the streets at his whim, just to keep himself busy. He liked to keep at least three at his beck and call daily; often, he kept more.

After all, he did go through them rather quickly, and he hated to run out of anything.

Power was what allowed Garhem Essade to have excess of anything he wanted, and he was a man that wanted everything his own way. He reveled in that which the weak and uninitiated idiots of "society" despised because he could easily get away with it. He had clawed his way to the top, and clawed everyone else down beneath him, to gain that power, and maintaining it was a full-time job. To his mind, the perks were worth the toil. As he sat soaking the powerful waters of a hot spring that had belonged to an enemy, with his mobile and ever-resourceful operations fully entrenched in the structure and ready to suit his own purposes, he reflected on just how much he _enjoyed _doing this. How utterly _satisfying _to use this place for his activities while its owners and residents were being captured, killed, and utterly pillaged by his own men! He'd already learned plenty about the group that had so recently left this piece of real estate ripe for his taking; it was worth it to him just to snub one of his oldest and least cooperative enemies to take one of her former dwellings for his own uses. Oh, and such uses as he had for it! And so close to a major hotspot of just the sort of young, rich, and stupid clientele that provided all the financial support a criminal empire thrived on!

Even in his revelry, Garhem Essade the Chief Kingpin was only _cautiously _optimistic. Whatever his desires were, he knew his enemies had what he now sought, and knew how to use it to at least some degree; that they had shaken a twelve-strong fully-armed pursuit of his men proved as much on its own. Even _he_, regrettably not the most attuned to the finer subtleties of such powers—at least, not _yet_ anyway—could _feel _the scope of power emanating from what they had even from this great a distance when it had been used. Though it had taken quite a few of his specially trained forces more sensitive than he to pinpoint the source of the emanations precisely once they had finally come to rest, Essade now knew they were entrenched and cornered, ready to hold off an onslaught in their own minds. Still, the notion of resistence hardly deterred a man like Essade; rather, it encouraged him all the more. What challenge in getting the artifact there would be, especially considering the strength of some of the enemies lined up in opposition! It had been a long time since Essade had last had such _fun_. And with Dubate snooping around at their heels no less, the bastard son of a bitch! Oh, he would enjoy this little war; he would trample the foolish do-gooders with _his _prize in their hands, and steal it back from them; then, he would use it to stamp out anything left to oppose him. Indeed, the one thing that power attracted and brought about so freely was challenge, and challenge gave one something to _live _for.

He knew that many of the men he sent on this mission for his benefit would not make it back, but what of it? They could all be replaced easily, and those that survived could share the pay meant for the fallen when they got back anyway. Besides, it wouldn't take very many to bring the artifact that nuisance Noriyasu Seta had squirreled away to his hands, anyway. Maybe he'd use the ones that did as test subjects to find out just how powerful the thing was when they did, just for the hell of it!

Excess was Essade's sustenance, his drug; power was the way he got high. And he was primed to become stoned on both before very long.

It took less than a moment to satisfy himself with the trivial and necessary final details of coordinating the heavy-handed strike he was to make on those fools; it had taken his men very little time to scope out tunnel after tunnel leading toward the base kept hidden for so long, now that the young owner of the building he'd commandeered was there. Essade, true to his very nature, was going all-out on this venture; with any luck, the personal power he would glean in success would trump any and all losses of men and resources his organization would incur many times over. Their lives meant nothing to one such as Essade; they were mere pawns in his game. Even those intractable clans of wretched _demons_ followed his command now; if they fell, what of it? It would make that many fewer potential enemies to oppose him in the future. Glancing now from the waterproof equipment his loyal minions of men had arranged for his usage, he saw the doors if the hot springs opening to allow four of them in, the very four that had located his enemies for him. Though victory had yet to come, Essade knew the value of reward in securing loyalty; these four would share the first fruits of it with him as their enemies fell.

His attention shifted to the bound forms of half a dozen fresh young girls caught for his usage today, their bared limbs immobilized by the supple yet strong bands of soft, blood-red silk that bound them. He saw mouth-watering fear in their young eyes, a delightful and tantalizing mixture of terror and dread mixed with the secret fascination their innocent minds still held with their runaway imaginations. Oh, he _knew _what their fates would be tonight, and he knew _they _knew it as well, even though the particulars were hidden from them…for now, anyway.

Such a shame the Hinata's young owner wouldn't live to see what his preciously maintained building and his carefully guarded tenents were to be used for. Essade's lecherous grin grew even wider as he considered what he would try on _those _delectable morsels once they'd been captured.

For now, however, he'd happily practice on _these_.

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For the first time in the last few days, Mitsune felt a little less afraid.

She couldn't really pin down one specific reason for the ebb of her fear, only that she was somehow less afraid than she felt she ought to be at the moment. After all, it wasn't everyday that she found herself facing a firefight for her life and the lives of others around her; they were now all mere minutes away from immediate, mortal danger. She didn't even need to imagine what it would be like to be shot, as her memory was still quite clear from the previous day's experience.

At least the ground would stay in the same place beneath her this time. Shooting at moving targets was hard enough as it was.

What she did know, however, was that she'd been positively terrified a few moments earlier.

She had been dreading the encounter she knew was coming for the better part of the morning. When it had come, it had happened so fast that she barely had time to register it happening fully. Naru was angrier than she'd ever seen her, and she was clearly not just angry with Keitaro, either. No, her best friend had learned enough of what was going on to find a new target for her fury, a wrath that Kitsune knew the reasons for and behind better than anyone, maybe even Naru herself.

Not that it made any difference in the end. Once irked, Naru expressed her innermost emotions with the end of her fist. From anyone else, Mitsune might have taken the blow, maybe reacted with anger, maybe not. If it had been Keitaro in her place, she might even have freaked and attacked back, a fate she was glad to have avoided; at least she'd know he'd recover.

She, on the other hand, might not have survived such a blow.

He must have known that, too. She'd never seen anyone move so fast in her life. In the time it took her to blink, he was already between her and Naru; when she felt herself lifted and gently tossed by a current of air she could only imagine was him using his _ki_, and saw everyone else around her caught on the same current, she no longer felt the urge to panic, to run fast and far from her own incoming doom.

"It's not fair, you know," she commented to him as they ran after Seta down the corridor toward the elevators.

"What isn't?" Keitaro asked, not breaking stride.

"This…attack happening right when you were getting your point across," she replied. "You didn't even get enough time to hear the big round of apologies they owe you!"

He hesitated half a step, falling back ever so slightly as a confused look came across his face. "W-what do you mean? I wasn't really expecting any apologies…I mean, all I did was make sure no one got hurt; if anything, I should've been the one asking for forgiveness. What if I'd screwed up and…you know…pushed a little too hard, or accidentally struck back? I'm just thankful I didn't hurt anyone!"

Inwardly, she sighed to herself. She'd been hoping, for his sake if nothing else, that he would get to hear the other girls give him their apologies for their many, _many _acts against him, so that a small piece of justice could be done for him. Under the circumstances, it was all she could hope for, and yet…even then, he wasn't thinking about himself, was he? No, his main purpose had been to keep best friends from killing each other, to keep zealous sword-wielding sisters from slicing each other to ribbons with everyone else in between. His only requests, after saving their lives from each other's wrath? That they don't attempt it again, and to accept _his _apologies for having to stop _them_. _**Hell!**_ What ever happened to them admitting how badly they'd treated _him_, and agreeing not to send _him _flying at the drop of a hat?

But then, he was used to being disrespected by just about everyone around him, even as he went out of his way to respect and cherish them. She, on the other hand, was used to the opposite case scenario. Though she was a master at all forms of cheating for personal gain, she never really could stand watching life cheat someone else like that.

It was a good thing she knew how to tell reality where to stick it when it counted.

Without a word, she turned in mid-stride and stopped almost completely, enough to cause him to run almost straight into her. Before he could, however, she was kissing him fiercely, deciding that she would afford him some form of reward for being who he was even if no one else could, or would, give him the time of day for it.

Had they not been facing a fight for their lives, she might have drug him off to thank him some more. She resolved once more to do so the moment they got the chance.

Assuming, of course, they ever would get it. But that was a matter of staying alive in the face of impossible odds; Keitaro excelled at that.

When the kiss broke an all-too-short moment later, he looked at her in appreciative surprise. "…wow! What was that for?" he asked.

"For being you," she said simply, unable and unwilling to hide the warm look on her face toward him, "and not what everyone called you all the time." A hint of fresh mischief lit up the expression as she teased, "You have no idea how _cute _you are when you do that!"

Keitaro stopped almost dead in his tracks as Kitsune skipped on ahead, giggling like mad. His face was contorted comically, disbelief and embarrassment fighting for supremacy on his twitching features as he stared after her.

A long moment passed before he could utter, "Wha—? The hell did you…_**cute! **_Ah, **hell **no!" Grumpily, he marched after her, grumbling, "Of all the things to be called, why the hell did it have to be _cute? _I am not, repeat _not_, _**kawaii**__!_"

Mitsune only laughed even harder. '_Ha! Nailed another one right on the head, I did!_' she thought to herself. True, she loved the guy now more than she could really begin to comprehend, but that wasn't going to stop her from teasing him a _little _bit.

She was, after all and in spite of all the dangerous crap going on around her, still Kitsune and damn proud of it.

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Tactically speaking, the supply dock was the equivalent of the base's front gate. Though its entrance was a wide, heavily barricaded and reinforced powered gate connected to a large tunnel with a hidden exit (apparently tucked conveniently behind a wall in an old warehouse on the edge of a nearby city), it stood as the only direct route into or out of the main compound. All other tunnels led to the parking garage above, which was separated from the main base by the large elevators near its center. Theoretically, an attack could reach the underground fortress from either direction; in practice, only the supply dock would allow direct access without the immediate need for equipment or expertise more advanced than plastic explosives.

Unfortunately for any would-be invaders, Motoko mused to herself, coming in the front door was never a good idea. Once they got past the gate, they would be at the center of a V of crossfire from numerous well-defended points manned by the better portion of the base's forces; if by some chance they managed to push far enough into the docks to reach the defenders themselves, they would come face-to-face with herself and her sister, both of which were in no mood to welcome them kindly.

Still, she could tell that this would likely be where the hammer would fall hardest. The entrance tunnel was straight enough to drive down, according to Tsuruko, and wide enough to mobilize plenty of people and equipment at once in either direction.

For once in her life, Motoko found herself actually wishing that Kaolla Su had brought one of her dangerous mechas, regardless of their detestable turtle-like appearances. At the very least, the wide radius of the missles they used would be able to hold back larger groups of enemies than bullets alone, and might even help against anything better armored than one of the Guardians were.

She also found herself hoping the young Molmol girl, one of the few people close enough to her to be called a friend in her sight, would not get herself hurt. For all her mischievousness and unpredictability, she was astoundingly innocent in many ways; the young swordmaiden could only pray for her sake that she could stay that way through the horrors to come.

The slow rumble of machinery and approaching explosions brought her back to the present. She carefully adjusted the extra body armor her sister had insisted she wear (just in case); it reminded her a bit of the protective gear they used to wear for their kendo training in a way, only heavier and less bulky.

For a swordmaiden in a firefight, it was the best that could be hoped for to stop what her sword and reflexes could not.

In the moments before the final set of doors were breached, however, Motoko realized that one thing had been left unsaid that shouldn't be, something she had scarcely a moment to amend. In part, it was her sense of honor that convicted her to say it, but mostly it was an obligation to her sister that, regardless of how she had or would view the circumstances, needed to be said.

"_Ane-ue_?" she said tentatively, attracting her older sibling's attention.

"What is it, Motoko?" Tsuruko replied evenly, the lingering sentiments of their earlier, brief confrontation still evident in her voice.

Hesitantly, Motoko took a breath and said, "I…I'm sorry, for having acted so dishonorably. Though it does not right the wrongs I have caused…I still regret having caused them. I feel I have failed you most of all, and for that I am truly sorry."

For a moment, her older sister said nothing to her, only gazing with penetrating eyes at her as though to read something of her mind and soul. Then, to her surprise, the older Aoyama's expression softened. "In that case, my sister, I forgive you, and ask your forgiveness in return. For I fear that I, too, have failed you in the same way. In my anger, perhaps, I failed to realize how much we share in common, you and I."

Motoko blinked, somewhat taken aback. "How so?"

"Well, for starters," Tsuruko said, with a hint of a smirk, "we both have a tendency to swing first and ask questions later, don't we?"

She blinked again, considering the point. She remembered her sister's face, how it bore the same terrifying look of unrestrained, almost hot-headed anger she often wore herself when confronting the likes of Keitaro. For the first time, the similarity in their personalities at such moments became almost uncanny, no matter their differences otherwise.

To her own surprise, it actually made her want to laugh. And laugh she did.

So did Tsuruko.

It lasted only a moment, as they both knew they were facing battle and deadly peril, but the extraordinarily rare lapse of seriousness in both women was freeing for both of them, a means to let go of some of the tension between them that had been building between them for so long.

And then the enormous gate began to bend and buckle from the other side, and both drew their swords as one, a look of sheer determination on both of their faces.

For the first time in ages, the Aoyama sisters would enter battle together with their swords aimed in the same direction.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Of the many emotions Naru had felt toward or because of Keitaro, numbness was a brand new arrival that overwhelmed her as completely as rage.

Normally, she would be hitting something or someone, _anything _to release the pent-up and frustrated tide of emotions that had been broiling within her for the last few days, especially the last few hours. She had gone to confront her best friend and the _baka _she never really could get off her mind, the thought of them actually being together driving her well past her short limits of self-control. She'd found her best friend first, but it had been Keitaro that had thrown her, quite literally, for a loop.

A part of her realized it was the first time he'd actually directly taken action to stop her from hitting anyone, himself included; though it shouldn't have surprised her after all that had happened so far, it still did. She was shocked he even had it in him to pull off what he had, considering the fact that he'd held not just her off, but _both _the Aoyama sisters, with relative ease.

What really got her was that she was beginning to understand_ why_ he did it, and the reasons scared her deeply. She had seen, now, a glimpse of the truth she had long denied as vehemently as she could, and had no recourse left to avoid dealing with it, to stave off her own course of emotions with her fist. She had lost her sense of permission to do so days ago, when Haruka had read them the riot act for the way they'd treated their _kanrinin_; she'd lost her sense of moral support when Motoko had confronted him in disguise on her own, only to return believing the same thing Haruka had told them.

Then, mere moments earlier, she'd lost all hope of being right, when Keitaro himself proved her wrong in more ways than one. He had revealed his strengths to them directly at last, and with them had demonstrated his true intentions more clearly than any words could tell. Therein lay the worst realization of all: the fact that she, Naru, had lost her chance with him by her own hand, now and probably forever, all because she had been too blind and stubborn to see the truth of the matter sooner. A hundred opportunities flashed before her eyes that she had missed; she'd had at least a hundred chances to apologize to him, to start over and in better control of her own actions, to really start appreciating him for who he was rather than pushing him away for what she had so desperately wanted to convince herself he was supposed to be.

To admit to him how she really felt, and had been feeling, toward him for some time now. And now she really couldn't, because she _knew _who he was with, and it wasn't Naru Narusegawa.

She didn't need to be told now that it was much too late, that she'd waited too long to make a move. She didn't need to hear the words she'd secretly dreaded to hear, who for so long had been unwilling even to admit to herself that she dreaded to hear them.

She now knew, without a doubt in her own mind, that he was with _her_. He was with Mitsune.

More importantly, he was _not_ with herself. He was _not_ with Naru.

Now, all she could feel was numb. She was vaguely aware that the base was under attack; weren't they expecting that, though? She didn't care anymore, couldn't bring herself to care. Keitaro, clearly, could handle this, much as she hated to admit it; what was she supposed to do about it? She wanted to blame him for all of this, but how could she now? It was her own damn fault for treating him like she had, for refusing to tell him that she actually cared for him. Now, she'd reaped exactly what she'd professed to want, hadn't she? She should be happy; she was livid, and sad, and confused instead. Of all people, why did it have to be Kitsune? Did it have to be her best friend that took him? Was it really so simple as that, that she'd never even seen it coming?

Now, as she found her self following two of _his_ friends down a crowded and noisy organized chaos of a corridor, both marching self-importantly in their ridiculous garb and gear, she couldn't bring herself to react as she normally might have done. Sure, her contempt told her to bang their heads together like so many coconuts, and her bitterness urged her to pick up a weapon herself and destroy anything and everything she could. She simply couldn't find the energy to fuel that contempt, that bitterness in her now; she'd lost it somewhere in that crosspath moments earlier.

She didn't know what to do, or how to react, or exactly what she should feel. If she had been Sarah or Su, she might have been scared or exited, or both, at all that had happened and that was about to take place. The latter of the two was practically bouncing off the ceiling, with the former not far behind. If she had been Shinobu, she'd have every right to feel as worried, as fearful, and as morose about the current state of affairs and that of their _kanrinin _as the young cook herself no doubt felt; poor girl never had a chance, either, did she? Naru didn't know if the young, innocent girl had picked up the same signals she had, or had come to the same conclusion yet; she would eventually, though. Then, maybe, she would grieve openly. She might have hidden her feelings, too, but at least she hadn't denied them the way Naru had with her own. If Shinobu wanted to cry about it to anyone, they'd readily understand and accept how she felt, would try to comfort her as best they could.

Not Naru, though. Only two people she knew of really even comprehended how she had felt toward him, even partially; one of them was now in his arms, and the other (she bitterly thought) might have been just as likely to have ended up in the same place, if not even more so, had circumstances been a little different.

Even numbness didn't make these pains go away entirely.

She barely noticed when they arrived at their destination, a guarded and barricaded room full of civilians, mostly unarmed in spite of the protective gear being handed out. She saw more of the local militia about, no doubt organizing to fight off the bastards at the doorstep. Keitaro's pals seemed to be joining them now, looking as idiotic and confused as ever; she didn't really care that much, and decided to ignore them. She saw Kaolla Su's sister and "brother" speaking with the young girl quickly in their own tongue, a strange and beautiful language indeed; the latter was already armed for battle himself, his appearance in full battle garb reminding Naru all the more of Keitaro now than ever before. Had she not seen as many outlandish and dangerous devices come out of the young tenant's room as she already had, she might have been more than mildly curious about the unusually tank-like version the girl was obviously putting the finishing touches on now, much to her nearest relations' apparent (and voiced) doubts about letting her take it into battle. It explained, at least, why they had seen so little of the MolMolian girl since they'd arrived just a couple days prior.

"They say it would be wise for everyone to wear these, just in case," a familiar voice addressed her suddenly half a moment before a large, surprisingly heavy, and very shirtlike object fell in her lap, jarring her numbed mind out of its numbing stupor just enough for her to take notice. She looked down to see a suit of the same riot armor she'd seen so many people running around in lately, and to her surprise her mind used the object's advent as an excuse to begin functioning normally once more. Logic immediately kicked in, as her brain quickly digested and saw the truth in the statement she had just heard.

Dangerous situations, after all, were always good for focusing one's attention on something _other _than one's own problems for a while.

Her mind also recognized the voice behind the statement, and though it already knew of the presence of its owner at the compound, it never would have expected to hear what it had out of said owner's mouth. Naru looked up to see the smiling, somewhat concerned visage of Mutsumi Otohime hovering over a _very _ill-fitted bulletproof jacket of her own.

In spite of herself, Naru had to stifle a chuckle at the absurdity of it. "I…guess so, huh?" she said aloud instead, examining the modern armor in her lap.

Mutsumi nodded. "Indeed! It would not be fair to the ones trying to defend us if we didn't at least make it harder for the ones trying to hurt us to do so."

"Hmph. Just so long as they don't expect us to come save _their _sorry asses," Naru said a little more bitterly than she intended to sound.

The thought seemed to worry her anemic friend. "You don't suppose we _will_, do you?" she asked, a small amount of trepidation in her voice.

"Tch. I sincerely doubt it," Naru replied, pulling the riot gear on and instantly beginning to hate its weight. It reminded her of wearing a bookbag around her entire torso. "Hell, there's only two ways in, and they've got Motoko and her sister at one end and that _ba-_…that _hen-_…ugh…_him_...at the other." She scowled in frustration, the mere thought of Keitaro sending her emotions back to the forefront of her consciousness.

"You look perplexed, my friend. Is something the matter?" the woman inquired of her, her voice full as ever of the same, genuine concern she always remembered hearing in _his _voice when he sensed that something was amiss.

Naru sighed, frustrated and tired. "No, Mutsumi, I'm…I'm fine, thanks. Just a bit stressed," she tried to lie to her friend, but it didn't work; the glaring untruth of her own words now grated on her own ears even worse than before, and she couldn't bring herself to let them stand. "Actually…no, I'm not fine at all. I feel horrible," she found herself saying, her voice quieter than before.

"Oh, dear! Are you injured…?" Mutsumi asked, but Naru shook her head and looked away. "No? Are you falling ill…?" she pressed, gaining the same response. "No, not ill? Are you afraid?" Naru gave her only a disbelieving glare. "No, I guess not, huh? Well, has something happened, then?" This time, there was a pause, and a reluctant nod that barely made the points of Naru's antenna-like partial bangs sway. "What happened?"

'_What __**didn't **__happen is more like it!_' Naru thought to herself sullenly. "Where do I start…" she began aloud, and proceded to tell her kindly anemic friend all that she could, ignoring all else that went on around them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The parking garage had become a much different place since the previous night, Keitaro thought to himself as the elevator doors opened. He and Mitsune were pressed up along the left hand side, clear of the opening doors, along with about a dozen fully armed Guardians (which were, he'd finally found out, the official name of the on-base guard forces); Haruka, who had joined the group only moments earlier, stood similarly on the right with Seta and a dozen more. The Guardians fanned out as soon as the doors opened, each carrying and wielding two or three weapons apiece. Most had drawn their primary guns, the H&K MP7A1. Seta had told him a bit about the relatively small weapon before they'd gone up; apparently, its bullets were small but high-powered, making them quite good at punching through body armor. The type the Guardians wore was good enough to stop a few such rounds at most, but wouldn't hold up against more for long (which, primarily, was why _they _used them).

As they followed behind the well-trained men, Keitaro noticed immediately how much smaller the place seemed to be, as though the walls had closed in and swallowed every car in the lot.

Essentially, they had. Thick concrete and steel barriers had risen from panels within the ground, enclosing each parking space on all sides and making for a much narrower, manageable arena in which to fight. More Guardians were moving about everywhere, setting up the defensive perimeter and erecting barricades at every strategic position possible. They moved toward one of the nearest tunnel entrances, marked 07 across its thick steel-gate doors. Keitaro already knew from the alarm klaxons and continuous announcements being made that this was only one of three tunnels being breached at the moment. Vaguely, he wondered to himself how long it would take them to get through those doors, and what they might use.

A loud but muffled booming from just behind the thick barriers was answer enough. As smoke began to seep through the cracks around the edges and center, his wonderings changed; this time, he found himself pondering what the hell they'd made the doors out of!

Next to him, he heard Haruka curse under her breath. "Sounds like they didn't use enough explosives on the first go. They won't make that mistake twice, though."

"Why not?" he asked.

"The first blast was a test to see how thick they were; they used a small amount to limit the distance the had to fall back from the explosion, in case they got lucky. It'll take time for them to set up again on this door, but…_oh, hell_." In one swift motion, Haruka hit her radio's send key and practically yelled, "All units! They're gonna blow 3 and 10! Brace yourselves and hold your—!"

She was cut off by a pair of enormous, metal-grating explosions resounding some distance away on either side of them. Barely seconds after the echoes finally stopped reverberating off the hardened walls, Keitaro heard the first reports of gunfire following closely behind.

It was fortunate that every tunnel in the complex was similarly barricaded and defended, Keitaro thought as he chambered the first round in his Desert Eagle; as it was, they were already being attacked through two of them. The radios came alive with chatter as the fight got underway; fortunately, the defense seemed well prepared for the onslaught and was holding its own—at least for the moment.

Then a third, much closer massive boom knocked into him with enough force to rattle every bone in his body almost painfully. The massive doors in front of them bent and warped severely a split second before they tore out of their framework, flying forward toward the defenders like massive walls of iron. Nearly two seconds later, they hit the first row of barricades, driving several back as they tumbled forward.

Within seconds, bullets began to sail in both directions through the dark fog of smoke that followed the ruin of the iron gates, and the fight was finally on. Keitaro fired quickly and carefully, using his heightened senses and awareness to direct his fire. He aimed to incapacitate where and whenever he could; though the others around and before him were shooting to kill, he had more of a choice in the matter by virtue of skill and superior protection. Keitaro's compassion for life extended to his enemies almost as much as it did toward his friends, even under such dangerous conditions.

Even so, with sword and gun and armor to bring to bear Keitaro did much more to counter and answer the incoming fire than he did to interfere with the outgoing volleys. His main concern was keeping those on _his _side alive and unhurt as much as possible, and that meant taking the fight to the enemy rather than hiding behind defensive lines. He rarely sought cover, using his swift movements and unusual appearance to draw fire away from those on his side toward himself. His armor proved incredibly resilient against the smaller fire that struck him, though the bigger bullets hit hard enough to bruise him more often than not. Within moments, he had crossed the narrow firing zone to land himself among the attackers, many of whom had to turn away from their original targets to face the sudden threat within their ranks. By the time they had, two found their guns (and more than one finger) sliced in half, and three had dropped to the ground, clutching the new holes that had appeared in their limbs.

Two more fell to a single shot of a third, each hit near the hip as the two halves of one lead slug angled away from the business edge of Keitaro's blade as he sliced it vertically. With the same cut, he felled the shooter himself, destroying weapon and splitting the gunner's arm.

Still in motion, Keitaro swung his own gun upward sharply as he ejected its empty clip, sending the spring-loaded lump of heavy metal into another enemy's temple with the force of a punch. Four more moved to attack him immediately, two with machine guns and two with swords of their own. The gunners fired at his head, aiming for the only exposed area on his body, while the swordsmen went for his legs, trying to cut him down near the joint of his knee. Keitaro somersaulted over the swords, dodging the fresh streams of lead in the process, bringing himself to land his foot squarely into one of the gunmen's chest with bone-snapping force. As the other tried to re-aim, a thin ripple of heavily distorted air seemed to pass directly in line with his ears; unfazed by the presence of his skull, the high-caliber sniper round that had created the distortion emerged in a small, quick red spray out the other ear, not stopping until it had embedded itself in a wall just past (and through) another enemy's neck. The suddenness of the double kill distracted the remaining swordsmen for the smallest of moments, slightly delaying their smooth transition into their next coordinated attack. Keitaro, however, wasn't so distracted, and both fell to his blade.

Somewhere, further back on the defensive line, Haruka snorted with content and chambered her next round. In front of her, Seta was swiftly moving to join Keitaro and a few of the more aggressive of the Guardian squad members, all but two of whom were still standing; to her side, Mitsune was aiming for any on the opposing side that tried to do the same.

A nearby explosion announced another tunnel's breaching, and the battle raged on.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In spite of his (and his friend's) oft-professed self-confidence, Haitani wasn't afraid to admit to himself that he was nervous as all holy hell about what was going on.

He'd kept a brave face on the entire way back to the safe area nearest the armory, a trip that could have been much worse normally considering just who they were escorting. After all, Naru's fists had become legends unto themselves, and he was secretly relieved that Keitaro had somehow stalled their wrath for the time being. Though he didn't often see her outside cram school, he'd never seen the girl quite so…quiet, maybe? From what he'd heard from Keitaro, he doubted there was any reason for it other than damaged pride. As far as _anyone _could tell, she didn't seem to share the same interest in Keitaro that he (not to mention a large number of other guys) had in the hot-tempered young woman. He felt confident—mostly—that technique had been Keitaro's biggest problem, but then again technique didn't count for a lot where Naru was concerned. He'd have to get Shirai to back him up later in asking her out, now that they both knew their mutual friend was no longer quite so taken with the girl and they didn't have to worry about hurting his feelings _quite _so badly in making the attempt. Hard hitting or not, she was still damn beautiful, after all; it couldn't hurt to try at least once.

Could it?

At any rate, even after they'd parted company with the girls Haitani could still feel the pit of dread steadily growing in his stomach. He tried not to think about what the two of them were about to go do. The shotgun in his hands, cool as it seemed to him, was still quite heavy and dangerous; he'd seen his dad shoot a deer with one before, and still remembered the rather disturbing sight of the animal's shredded flesh where the many pieces of buckshot had hit it. He knew enough to realize how much larger the shells for the one he now carried were than that 20-gauge hunting weapon had used, and had enough imagination to picture just how much worse such a wound would look on a human body. Suddenly, the glory of volunteering to go use it, even against what was arguably a truly evil force, didn't seem quite so appealing to him as it had less than an hour ago.

Did the fighting have to start so soon? Couldn't he get used to the idea first, or go on guard duty, or something? The distant rumble of explosions seemed to mock his wishful thinking. He kept glancing at Shirai, at the oversized oddity on his back. At least _he _didn't have the worry of knowing what his weapon could do; his friend didn't even know how to use the thing yet. Then again, at least Haitani had a _little _practice with his type of gun, both in real life and in the virtual world of gaming. Shirai held a weapon of unknown practical power, barely described usage, and no instruction manual to learn either property in any detail. How could he expect to defend himself with it, let alone anything else? Sure, they both wanted the same thing: to help their friend, to fight and win, and to get joint copyright on the codenames they came up with.

The reality was that neither of them was really all that well-prepared to do it, at least not offhand like this.

Next to him, Shirai muttered and cursed. "Crap! I can't figure this thing out for the life of me. I'm pretty sure this is the trigger, but nothing I try with anything seems to make it _do _anything."

Haitani's nervousness increased. "Uhh…you really sure you should try messing with that so much? I mean, shouldn't you ask someone that knows how to work it?"

Shirai looked indignant. "Hey! I'm being careful, you know! I've already found the trigger, anyway…I think."

Haitani winced. "That's what you said the last time we tried playing Halo! Instead of shooting an unshielded enemy with the flag, you stuck me in the head with a grenade and blew up half our team!"

"Hey, that ain't fair! Someone switched my button layout and didn't tell me," Shirai argued. "That's what you get for using my profile instead of your own!"

"Like hell I did! I don't even _use _that kind of setup! Inverted-Legacy-_Default_ buttons, remember? All it changes is the sticks!"

"Tch, whatever, man. It was your fault for standing where you were, anyway."

"Yeah, right, dude!"

"Whatever. It's not like I'm _totally _clueless about how this thing works, you know. Everything's labeled pretty clearly on it, actually; I just I can't seem to figure out why I can't turn the damn thing on!"

"That's because you aren't looking for the right switch!" a boisterously loud, strangely accented voice suddenly boomed behind them. Both jumped about a foot in the air, but only Haitani seemed to land. Turning, he saw the reason why: an unusually large, somewhat hairy-looking hand had grabbed the large pack, holding both it _and_ a panicking Shirai in midair over a foot off the ground.

When Haitani saw the size of the owner of said arm, he nearly did the same. Standing behind them was a man who, by the looks of him, might have been half-bear and part-lion. A head ringed with a mane of wild, bristling black hair sat with a mouth wide open in boisterous, deep-throated laughter on his tall, barrel-chested and thick-limbed body. With a casual flick of one thick finger, the man flicked a small switch near the bottom of Shirai's outlandish equipment. Instantly, a rising hum emanated from the device, and several lights on it flickered on in sequence as the miniature subatomic accelerators within it came to life. "Hah! There, see? Won't get very far with one of my protoblasters if you don't even turn it on, my boy!" The man threw his head back again with laughter, his half-foot long beard jutting out as he casually dropped Shirai back to his feet. "Good thing I know my own work at a distance, or you'd be a quark short of an atom out there."

Finally recovering himself, Shirai stood up again and said in a less-than-confident tone, "Uh…t-thanks, mister. I hope you don't, uh, mind me using it, or anything, uh…" He looked to Haitani pleadingly.

"Er, what he means, uh, sir, is that, well, he's not exactly all that good with a gun or anything, and we heard from Professor Noriyasu that this might work better, you know, for someone that isn't—"

"Ah, well, that makes more sense already!" the man chuckled. "You two know my friend Seta in the Archaeology Department, then?"

Both of them nodded. "Y-yes, we do, sir," Shirai said. "Er, does that make you…?"

"_**The **_Professor Heihachiro Hoshiti of Tokyo University, and quite damn proud of it at that!" the man responded jovially.

Both Haitani and Shirai looked at each other in disbelief. _This _was Toudai's resident expert on theoretical physics Seta had told them about? Somehow, they had both been expecting him to be a much older, more geeky-looking professor in goggles and a lab coat, if anything; that he would be a nearly seven-foot, booming voiced behemoth in oversized, heavily laden battle fatigues and a somewhat undersized lab coat hadn't crossed their minds. Yet there was no mistaking the mug and name in the photo-I.D. nametag pinned to his coat; along with the marks of his identity, Hoshiti wore a "protoblaster" of his own on his large back as prominently as he wore his cudgel.

He wore said large, cast-iron, club-shaped, spike-covered cudgel on his belt as casually as one would a set of keys, in spite of the way it strained against the loop strapping it on.

"So," Hoshiti continued, a hint of curiosity in his voice, "what are two fine young lads such as yourselves doing mixed up in this mess?"

"Well…we're kind of here because a friend of ours is supposed to be some secret badass fighting machine," Haitani explained carefully, "and since it's pretty much fight or get blown up we're looking to help him out if we can. Not sure how _much _help we'll be, but we ain't leaving him to stand all alone against this. It wouldn't sit well, you know?"

"Hmmm…I see. That is excellent news, indeed, then!"

"Why's that?" Shirai asked, confused.

"My good fellow! Every man worth his weight has good, loyal friends behind him! When one fights to defend his friends, he fights at his best! Tell me, which front has he taken?"

"He went to the car tunnels up above us, I think," Haitani responded.

"Good, very good. Then _we _shall have little to worry about, I think!" Hoshiti mused. "Since one of you has taken such interest in my invention, I think it best that you join me and the others from my department in conducting the _field_ tests!" Again, he laughed with almost manic glee as he patted both of them on the backs hard enough to turn them back around in the direction they'd been traveling. To their mild surprise, about a dozen and a half more people stood ready before them, many armed with protoblasters of their own (among other weapons). At the same moment, a fresh deep rumbling of an explosion sounded off in the distance, accompanied by the rattling of the ground beneath their feet. "COME! FOES KNOCK WITH LEAD AND STEEL AT OUR GATES! LET US KNOCK THEIR **HEADS!**" Hoshiti bellowed, a wild warrior's look as he began a surprisingly swift lumbering charge down the hall.

Both Haitani and Shirai stared and gaped after him. The others seemed to hesitate as well; all but a few seemed more or less better suited for Toudai's physics department than Hoshiti, including the situation they were currently facing. Somehow, the large man noticed they were hesitating and stopped about twenty feet away. Looking over his shoulder, he rolled his eyes in almost comic exasperation and called out, "Well, come on! Don't just stand there! We've got work to do!"

The two friends looked at each other, then back at Hoshiti, then back at each other. Finally, with a somewhat helpless shrug, they both took off after him in a similar manner, both simply glad to have someone that clearly knew what he was doing with them.

Less than half a moment later, the others followed with somewhat less enthusiasm.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

At the loading docks, things were already hectic. The fighting was mixed and fierce on both sides; the earlier gunfire had slowly begun to give way to close quarters combat, a mixture of blades and firearms exchanging blows back and forth across the increasingly blurring divide.

The Aoyama sisters were in full-force combat mode, their own blades a pair of steel lightning bolts darting through the oncoming criminal army in front of them. Many of their opponents were mixed fighters, it seemed, and quite a few were fairly decent; so far, though, none could match either swordmaiden with gun or blade, though it seemed there were plenty more of them to fight than there were defenders to fight back. Still, the Guardians and the _Shinmei-ryu _warriors together were holding back the tide, albeit with some difficulty.

Motoko was hardly unused to blood and battle, having been raised to face both her entire life. A part of her mind was free to analyze even as she fought, sending slashes and volleys of her stronger secret-technique _ki _blasts alike at her opponents. Her sister was even swifter and more deadly; at one point, a whole group flew to pieces like ragdolls as she passed them.

It was only during a brief lull in the fighting between waves of increasingly better-armed and trained enemies, however, that Motoko began to understand the nature of a much greater enemy to both of them. Fatigue was slowly beginning to rear its head, its tendrils snaking out and wrapping through her mind and muscles just beneath the numbing influence of adrenaline in her system. It was slow at first, but as the small scrapes and bruises she couldn't quite avoid receiving began to multiply, she was slowly running out of energy to fight at her fullest. Her sister was faring better, it seemed, but only somewhat.

Even for two of the best, dodging and blocking so many bullets and using their talents so heavily was not something that could be humanly maintained forever. Unfortunately for the both of them, things were about to get worse.

Suddenly, it seemed the enemy fire fell off in front of them, as though briefly held back by something. Curious, Motoko glanced at the enemy ranks, noting a slight parting in their forces as they moved off to the side.

Then, and only then, did she feel the full force of the malevolence gathering in the shadows of the battle-scarred tunnel. It hit her in a way she had never expected, assaulting her senses with painfully intense harshness all at once. She felt it like spines grating through her nerves, like the rank stench of burnt and rotting flesh in her nostrils and stingingly bitter tastes on her tongue. Even her vision and hearing seemed affected, as though horrific sounds beyond the range of human hearing were slowly vibrating her skull and warping her perception of everything else.

Motoko had less experience with what she now faced than her sister did, and knew that fact clearly for the first time. Now, she could see for the first time just how far off the mark she had been in her judgment of Keitaro, in whom she had (mistakenly, it now seemed) perceived a low form of evil expressed in his human nature. She had thought that a constant level of vigilance on her part was necessary to spot _any _such evil, in any form.

This, however, was evil she would have felt if she had been blind, deaf, and fast asleep. It did not provoke her to the righteous anger she had expected to feel, the fuel behind her strongest attacks; it filled her instead with a terror she had not known she could feel, a sense of dread that reached to the unshakeable core of her being.

"_Ane-ue! Oni!_ " she cried to her sister, but Tsuruko was already by her side.

"I know," the older sibling replied, her own eyes glowing white with power as she faced the opening before them.

For the first time in her life, Motoko heard her sister curse as first one, then three, then three dozen pairs of hellishly glowing crimpson eyes opened in the darkness before them.

From the darkness emerged the _oni_, the powerful and purely evil demonic spirits made physical flesh. They were large and variable in shape, akin to humans or animals in rough design only; some had extra limbs, some bore thick plates of bony armor on feral frames, and others were grotesquely formed of parts that had no business coexisting on _anything _living or dead. Where claws, horns, fangs, bladed joints and barbed spines did not cover their bodies, they carried weapons made for cruel, vicious bloodshed.

It was the destiny of all true _Shinmei-ryu _warriors to face such ogres and demons as these. A hundred of their best warriors might struggle for days with heavy losses against swollen clans of _oni_ to wipe the malevolent beings out of existence. It was thanks to their efforts that, in modern times at least, to see more than a handful together at any one time was increasingly rare, provided one ever saw them at all.

Now, there were only about four or five that had been trained in her clan's arts among the Guardians still standing, aside from herself and her sister; standing before them was an entire _clan _of _oni_, already four dozen strong and growing in number. What few markings they bore told, in horrific symbolic imagery and words, of their centuries-long connections to one another as kin. The other Guardians would be of minimal help, she realized; few had the proper training, and bullets were as good as useless against such foes.

"I have a bad feeling about this," she said to her sister as both raised their swords.

From that moment forward, the battle became far more difficult. The _oni _were vicious, fierce opponents, and did not fall easily; it took the concentrated fire of at least ten Guardians to bring even one of them down, by which time it had already brutally butchered six others. The first dozen to fall multiplied the injuries and casualties of the defending warriors more than the first hundred human enemies had several fold, and forced the defenders further and further back as they pressed forward.

Perhaps given time to rest and recuperate, Motoko found herself musing, she and her sister might have been able to best the demons on their own, though it likely would cost both of them their lives to do so. With the dozen or so warriors from their own clan that had been standing at the start of the fight at their side, they might have both survived it as well. But they were both tiring quickly, the evil-eradicating techniques that served as their only effective weapons against such beings becoming more and more difficult to perform. Small injuries were beginning to multiply themselves on both of them, and their fellow warriors were already beginning to succumb to injuries of their own. Fewer and fewer of the other Guardians still lived to help, their attention increasingly divided between the human enemies they could match and the demonic ones they could not.

And then, quite suddenly, one of the _oni_ nearly managed to kill her. She had just finished impaling another, axe-bearing _oni _with _Shisui_, channeling her swiftly dwindling reserves of strength into yet another _ki _blast to incinerate it from within when a large, almost lion-like beast _oni _leapt from behind a growing pile of bodies and debris at her. There wasn't enough time for her to move to survive, let alone retaliate, even as she attempted to do both. Time slowed to a crawl, though it hardly helped; she saw the dark, demonically mutated talon-like claws and jagged, razor-sharp teeth extending from the swift form of her soon-to-be killer, the look of hatred and hunger emanating from the thing's twisted expression. Inches away from her face, however, the beast lurched to a sudden halt in midair with a horrific shriek of pain, its body convulsing under the entangling power of a visible, unknown energy warping around its body. Too surprised and tired to formulate another _ki _blast so soon, she nevertheless used the opportunity to strike with her blade.

To her surprise, the simple cut penetrated deeply into the demon's flesh, cutting it the way it would cut that of an ordinary human. In one slice, she decapitated it, and the remains quickly incinerated themselves under the strange energies that had suddenly bound and stalled it.

Fortunately for her, the sudden, unexpected, and bizarre demise of one of their own caused the nearest of the _oni _to momentarily halt their assault as they backed away about a collective pace to regard the source of the new threat, allowing Motoko just enough time to safely do the same herself.

The smoking tips of a pair of strange devices immediately caught everyone's eye. The devices themselves were worn by two of the most dissimilar-looking newcomers imaginable. The nearest Motoko recognized, to her own chagrin: it was the shorter of the two friends that always seemed to hang around Keitaro, wearing a look of surprise and possibly glee at the power of the odd weapon he now wielded in both hands, his already small frame weighed down slightly by the large backpack component that apparently powered it. She recognized the device as the one he'd been wearing when she'd spotted him and his taller counterpart scarcely half an hour earlier.

The other newcomer was a gigantic reminder of everything Motoko disliked in a male wrapped in a package that for all the world reminded her of a barbaric warrior king from some forgotten era. He wielded the identical contraption in one hand, and raised an iron cudgel that easily rivaled the weapons of the _oni _themselves in the other.

"**CHOKE ON YOUR BLOOD AS WE SLIT YOUR GIZZARDS, DEMONS! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAHH!**" he yelled, his surprisingly eloquent-sounding voice booming over the din of battle as he pointed the cudgel towards the _oni_. "**TOUDAI QUASARS! FORWARD!**" Firing up his bizarre weapon once more, the hairy giant of a man charged into the fray with all the fury and bloodlust of a demon himself, the powerful beam ensnaring another demon for him to quickly pummel into oblivion. Charging more or less as enthusiastically right behind him was a small group of fresh fighters, not more than twenty altogether (including Keitaro's two friends); interestingly, they seemed to move in pairs, with one wielding one of the energy-beam devices while the other used a more conventional weapon. The strategic arrangement was immediately clear to Motoko's mind: the devices were enough to weaken a given _oni_, but not kill it, while a normal weapon wouldn't take down the demons fast enough to be useful on its own…unless, of course, there was something else strong enough to weaken said demon's defenses. Such was the utility of her own _ki_-infused techniques, which amplified the power of her attacks to specifically damage the malevolent beings of the demons themselves with each physical blow. However sharp _Shisui _was, it would not inflict lasting wounds on an _oni _without such power to reinforce the strikes.

Whatever the devices were, they served much the same purpose as her techniques, and that made the _oni _ever so slightly less lethal and easier to kill. Even the likes of Keitaro's stooge friends, untrained in real combat as they were, could work _together _on one given _oni_, with one pinning and weakening it while the other blasted it with a few shotgun shells.

At any other time, Motoko might have both marveled at the ingenuity of the devices themselves and resented their ability to match an aspect of her hard-earned abilities. She might also have gagged on the identities of her saviors and acted on her sudden impulse to repeatedly bang her head against the nearest wall in utter frustration. '_Why did it have to be them!_' she moaned inwardly to herself. '_Must I be honor-bound to owe my life in combat to THOSE idiots as well!_'

In spite of herself, however, Motoko Aoyama the _Shinmei-ryu _swordmaiden was still grateful that they had, in spite of who they were. As she turned and fought with a renewed sense of vigor and hope, she could only be glad that the odds had been evened out in their favor. For her pride's sake, she would accept what help there was to be had for now; at the very least, she could be sure to defeat at _least _twice as many of the demons as they did in half the time.

The battle went on with renewed fury.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A.N.: Hot damn, things are cooking up. I know, this is only a relatively brief introduction to the fighting, but there was much to set up for later.

Major credit must be given where it's due here. First off, the new OC, Heihachiro Hoshiti, was inspired in large part by the actor/comedian Brian Blessed. He is well known for his brash, warrior-king like demeanor, and has the bulk to reinforce it; I got the idea after watching an old 1980 cult classic movie called _Flash Gordon_, in which Blessed plays the raucous and unforgettable Prince Vulcan, leader of the Hawkmen. For those of you that haven't seen this movie, please do so if you can; for everyone else, check out the episode "Road to Berlin" on _Family Guy _and watch for this character's cameo during the dogfight sequence (you'll know him when you see him, trust me). You can also check the first _Blackadder _series, in which he plays Richard IV. The name, meanwhile, is from a character in _Onimusha 3_, combined with a made-up name that made me think of what "oh, shit!" might sound like coming out of Jackie Chan's mouth. No joke, that's how I thought of it.

The title was inspired by a late level in _Halo 2_ that similarly describes the Arbiter's plans concerning a certain Brute chieftan and his own "size 24 hoof" in the nearest future. Everything else should be pretty obvious, unless I forgot something. Next chapter: more bloodshed and villainy, Keitaro finds himself pushed ever closer to epic, mythic action, and something bad happens to someone Keitaro knows that will cause them to unleash a Hell-surpassing fury on some unsuspecting henchmen…


	14. Ch14: Are You Looking For a Bean Shop

Disclaimer: I don't own the unusually large number of things I'm going to end up referring to in this chapter.

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Chapter 14: Are You Looking For A Bean Shop, My Friend?

Mitsune reflected to herself as the opposing gunfire finally began to fade with their retreat. She'd been shooting like mad for over an hour, caught somewhere between worrying about getting hit herself and worrying about Keitaro doing something _too _heroic or noble and getting himself hurt in the process. They'd both been fighting (him especially, since his attire and, likely, identity drew much of the fire towards himself) almost nonstop the entire time, but they hadn't been very far apart for most of it. Every few minutes, he'd return to get more ammo and to check to see that she was still okay, and never strayed very far from her position when he could help it. Twice already, he'd saved her life; once when an enemy had managed to make their way around behind her, and a second time when he'd shielded her from a grenade blast using his armored body. The first time, she'd found out about it when the muscle-bound brute that was about to shoot her in the back of the head ended up auditioning for a boy's choir (quite beautifully) as he quite literally flew over her head. The second, she had escaped with little more than a few small cuts and freshly ringing eardrums, while Keitaro had ended up with quite a few of the sharper bits of shrapnel stuck to the plating on his back though his cloak.

She'd taken the opportunities as they came and embraced him, quickly but fully, on both occasions.

Now, though, she found herself searching hard for him, the air finally devoid of flying lead and steel enough to do so. She spotted Seta first, who was now limping ever so slightly from a slight graze wound on his left leg. Haruka was with him, her face hard and smudged, the folded outer edges of her long iron fan wet and discolored with blood. Mitsune remembered immediately the first time Haruka had whipped that thing out in the battle, faster than had seemed physically possible, to strike a leaping enemy in the head. The blow had all but bludgeoned the man, but the slice that followed took his head off entirely. The thick, razor-sharp edged blades of the oversized metal version of Haruka's most identifying personal effect proved deadly and useful more than once during the battle. For such an outlandish weapon, it had served the woman equally well as club, sword, and bulletproof shield in blinding succession throughout.

Keitaro, however, was not with either of them, and Mitsune had to search across several tunnel entrances to finally spot him. When she did, she found him hard at work, using his suit's abilities to heal what wounds he could wherever he could. There was blood all over him, though (she hoped) not any of his own; his once gleaming sword now barely shone for the streaks of crimpson that covered its length. Yet as she watched him divide strips of cloth out of the wounded man's shirt with the barest of touches with its edge, she could see it was as sharp as ever. How much steel and flesh and bone had that weapon sliced today?

She found herself not really wanting to think about it.

Keitaro himself did not seem so tired as she felt, at least physically speaking; whether due to his own incredible endurance and recent bout of rest, the extra boost of his armor, or both, he was still moving with unyielding relentlessness, the drive that had propelled him through the fighting still in full effect well over an hour later. It surprised her, seeing him like this; just days ago, he had been half-dead from exhaustion.

Now, fully rested, it seemed like there was no stopping him.

The number of wounded around him, however, seemed oddly greater than she would have expected. For all the intense fighting of the past hour, most of the defenders were still standing; she'd seen only ten get killed or seriously hurt from where she had been. Thanks in large part to skill and better bodily protection, few had wounds, and fewer still had serious ones. Why, then, were there so many wounded here?

It occurred to her in that moment that most of the wounded she saw nearby weren't wearing the gear of the Guardians; unless they had somehow lost the bulky equipment in the battle, it could only mean that they were mostly from the other side. She frowned to herself, considering this. They weren't the nicest looking lot to begin with; most reminded her of petty thugs and criminals, at most a step above the type that had assaulted her only a week earlier. Yet there was Keitaro, binding their wounds even as he bound their hands and feet, moving fast as lightning from person to person regardless of their origins! Somehow, each one of the enemy he helped went unconscious the moment he touched their foreheads, his glowing hands telling Mitsune that he was doing that on purpose.

Finally, he stood up, finished with every injured man nearby, and spotted Mitsune watching him. "I know it's probably not the best of ideas," he said mildly, wiping the excess blood off his gauntlets onto a torn rag that might've been someone's shirt, "but most of these guys I took down myself, and they won't live long without at least _some_ help."

"Wait—you actually wanna _help _these guys?" she asked incredulously.

He chuckled. "Honestly? Most of them probably don't deserve any help at all, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna live with the guilt of leaving them there to die after doing my best _not _to kill the bastards outright."

Mitsune nodded, understanding. "Still don't wanna kill anyone if you can help it, huh?"

"Yeah…pretty much," he said, half a smile appearing on his face.

She cocked her head to one side, feeling strangely curious about his acts. "So…how many of these guys did you end up...er, _not _killing, anyway?"

"How many?" He glanced around, thinking. "Not sure, exactly. I think they hauled most of the lightly injured off when they retreated, so there were more of them than this. Most of the ones I didn't go up against are either dead or retreating as well. Maybe…three and a half, four hundred or so? I lost count after about two-fifty or so."

It took her mouth about three seconds to fully drop. "Four _hundred! _Holy shit, Keitaro!" she exclaimed in disbelief, even as her brain worked overtime. There had been hundreds of them, as far as she could tell, and for every one she or somebody else had hit, Keitaro had already taken down at least three to five in rapid succession. "How many weren't as lucky, then?"

"So far? None that I know of. These guys were some of the worst off, I think. When they retreated a minute ago, a lot of the ones that could still move left, so...unless one of them dies along the way, none."

"…none? None at all? How is that—?"

"Remember which martial art I told you I liked most?"

She thought for a minute, trying to remember. The odd question made her think back to the quiet lunch they had shared an eon ago, or was it really just a few days earlier? It felt like forever to her, now. A part of her wished the problems they had faced in those moments were _all _they had to worry about now; how simple and easy they now seemed! "Yeah…I remember. _Aikido_, right?"

He nodded. "Though I didn't use it's techniques as much here, I kept the mindset, the _reason _for it: to protect oneself, to protect others, and _to protect one's opponent as well_. I couldn't stop them all without hurting them and making it so they weren't able to readily harm us as they could when they came, but I _could _preserve the one thing I couldn't give them back if I took it: their lives. Just because I _can_ kill them doesn't mean I _should_, or _will_."

Again, her eyebrow went up. "So…what about their fingers? I noticed you chopping quite a few of them off along the way."

To her surprise, he laughed heartily. "They'll keep 'em on."

"What do you mean, _they'll keep them on? _You cut them off, didn't you?"

"Take a look for yourself," he said with a shrug, poking the nearest one with his foot. Mitsune glanced down to see what looked like a typical gang member, bound hand and foot with more than just rope. His right hand's palm and fingers were wrapped in somewhat bloody cloth, each firmly and expertly secured with its own small length of material. "I cut the gun right out of this guy's hand, and basically took half the hand in the process. But, he hasn't stayed that way since. All I had to do was knock him out and repair what I could of it using the pieces; the bones and flesh were easy enough for me, though the nerves'll probably take more work on his part to get back into working shape, I think. Granted, his hand might not ever work _quite _right again, but he'll still have the hand and some scars to remember me by and all of his digits intact. Who knows? Maybe he'll understand what mercy is when he looks at it and give it a try himself, maybe not. I'd rather he have a chance to put that hand to better use than he was today than not."

"Wait—you mean...you _reattached _half his hand?"

"Best as I could. At the very least, it'll give some doctor something to work with if he needs help later on. Guess he was lucky to be left behind, in the end; a lot of others left equally short-handed before I could do anything for them."

Mitsune considered him seriously. She had known Keitaro was compassionate, but she had never expected him to show it to quite that far a degree! "You do realize these guys were just trying to _kill_ you, right?"

"Yeah, and if they didn't know I could've done the same to them by now and _didn't_, they will when they wake up. I'll bet quite a few probably weren't here by personal choice, either."

Confused, she asked him, "What makes you say that?"

He shrugged. "Look at these guys: most of 'em aren't any older than _we _are, Mitsune. Yeah, some of 'em are, but even they don't strike me as elite professionals. Hell, half of 'em were just amateur thugs; kids that didn't get a good break in life, and ended up on the street. I'm willing to bet at least some of them were ordered to attack by the powers-that be behind their _own _bosses rather than for any personal grudge against me in particular. Can't say they're here by choice if they're not."

A small smile crept on Mitsune's weary face. "Good point, but look who's talking."

He chuckled. "Yeah, well, I've got good reasons for sticking around. They, on the other hand, don't. Think of the kind of lives they lead: most of 'em probably never got a chance to make anything of themselves past…this." He gestured toward the bound, injured men around him. "Kill or be killed, do what your criminal boss says or die, follow the law of the streets, not the land…no point, no good reason for living, no way out. You think their parents ever wanted this for them? I don't. If I kill them now, they never get a chance to wake up and have a purpose in life. Maybe they'll have something worth fighting for in their futures, if they're good and lucky. Maybe not. But I'd rather give them that chance than take it away if I can help it."

Mitsune sighed in resignation and chuckled as well. "If you say so, Kei-kun. Dunno if you're even half-right about it, but…as long as you're okay in the end, then more power to ya."

He nodded, a small smile on his face. "Thanks, Kitsu-chan. It means a lot to me to hear that, especially coming from you."

She grinned cheerfully before drawing Keitaro into a tight hug that he willingly returned. It was difficult to do so properly, she noticed immediately; after all, between her own ceramic-plated Kevlar and his hard shelled, full-body bio-armor, there was little room for close contact. Even so, the mere feeling of having him so near to her was deeply comforting, whatever lay between them. Half-unconsciously, she found herself stroking her hands over his armored form in ways that, normally, she might not have gotten away with in public. It felt _good_, getting moments like this with him; it made her wish that they could get this fighting _over with _already, and get back to enjoying each other with new freedom.

Perhaps she had forgotten the strange properties of his gear, or perhaps a part of her had willingly overlooked what she instinctually knew; whatever the case, each movement and gesture translated itself with remarkable accuracy and nuance through his armor, allowing him to feel it as though it were his own skin she was touching instead. It wasn't until she noticed the heat rising in his face and the sudden unsteadiness in his knees as her fingers trailed into more intimate and interesting territory that this particular detail came back to her mind.

"Hmmm…looks like that shell of yours really _does _do more than block bullets, huh?" she noted aloud playfully, eliciting a somewhat strained chuckle from Keitaro.

"Hnnh…n-noticed, did you?" he replied less easily, as though said armor had become more than a little tighter fitting than it had been a moment ago.

She smirked impishly, her innate sense of mischievous humor and flirtatiousness kicking into gear as her mind began to work. "Too bad for you it doesn't work both ways, huh?"

One of his eyebrows quirked up, his own mind suddenly kicking into gear even as the process deepened the blush on his face even further. "You know," he mused aloud, "come to think of it, I...don't see why it shouldn't, really."

Now it was Kitsune's turn to be surprised. She hesitated in her teasing gestures and asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well, the way I figure it," Keitaro said carefully, glancing at one of his palms with interest over her shoulder, "this thing works kinda like an amplified power conduit for my _ki_, right? You know, kind of like someone hooked a guitar to an amp, and used it to make the sound louder and more complex. Whenever I touch something through this stuff, or it touches me, it's like I'm touching it myself with my own skin, only I can feel the armor part at the same time, too."

She considered it for a moment before saying, "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. So, it's kind of like not wearing it at the same time as wearing it?" She chuckled and teased, "Ooh, you naughty dog, you!"

"Uhh...well, almost. See, one thing I've noticed is that it doesn't _always _do that, I mean, at least not for everything. I think…on some level, I have a little _control_ over it."

"How so?"

"Well, it's kind of like...if I _want _to feel something, I do, but if it's something...painful or distracting, maybe, like getting hit by a bullet or something, the part of it that's hit kind of shuts off for a moment, 'cause I don't _want _to feel that. And...well, right now, I'm feeling everywhere you're touching twice as strong as everything else I've felt in the last couple hours, and I guess it's because…well…"

"…you _want_ to, right?" she finished for him, smirking.

"…yeah," he nodded, blushing again as she snickered. "_Buuuut_ that makes me think, though: If I can do that to _myself_, and I can do things like _ki _healing to others where I normally couldn't…"

Experimentally, he ran a hand down her Kevlar-coated back, his mind refocusing experimentally to show her what he meant.

The sensation caused Mitsune's breath to hitch. At first, she wondered if he'd somehow slipped his gauntlet off and snuck his hand under her clothing; when she realized that she still felt the presence of said clothing and his hand _simultaneously _in the same spots, however, the words to finish his statement came to her mind and lips in an instant.

"…t-then you can make it work in reverse, too!"

He nodded. "I think it's working. I...hope you don't mind?"

"_Mind!_ Kei-kun, this is brilliant! It's…hmmnh, that feels…_really _good. C-can you do that with more than just…?"

He could, and the sensation of sudden, phantom bodily contact spread like wildfire. Suddenly, it was like he was with her, _inside _her layers of armor and clothing even as she wore them, and she inside his as well. She could feel _him_, not just what was between him and her; she could feel _his_ skin, warm and soft over the layers of still-taught and overworked muscles beneath it, and had enough sense left about her to realize he could feel _hers_. She could feel every detail down to the irregular surfaces of his scars, even as she felt the material and pressure of their garments separating them. Even as her fingertips felt the the hard, scaly surface that covered everything but his face, she could feel the living surface of his flesh just beneath it.

If she wasn't aware of how closely and intimately they were actually holding each other before, or of how much of an effect it was having on _both _of them, it was perfectly clear to her now.

"Boy, we could get in a _lot _of interesting trouble with that thing, you know," she whispered in his ear, and felt his face grew even hotter. Even as he nodded in agreement, though, a deep rumble beneath them threw them off balance. With the loss of contact came the disappointing loss of the sensation, and both snapped back into the reality of their situation.

"I think there's still trouble enough to get into right now as it is," Keitaro muttered aloud a little sadly.

She sighed, frustrated. "Isn't there always? You'd think these guys would know when to _quit it_ already!"

He snorted slightly. "Guess not. But then, I never did either! Come on, we'd better see if we can help. How are we on ammo, anyway?"

Mitsune glanced at the bag on her shoulder, and noted for the first time how much lighter it was now than before. Unzipping it, she peered inside. "Not good; looks like we already used most of it. There's one last clip here for your gun, a whole bunch of empties, too, uh...still pretty good on shotgun shells…aaaand that's about it. I've only got about a clip and a half's worth of shots left in these together," she said, patting one of her holstered Glocks with a sheepish grin. "Think we should go down and get more?"

"Yeah, especially if they still need help at those loading docks Tsuruko was talking about," Keitaro agreed, frowning. "We should anyway, I think. I've got a bad feeling that something's not right, something big. We've all but finished fighting up here for now, but things are still blowing up downstairs in the one-entrance, _better _defended spot? What's giving them so much trouble?"

Her face fell slightly as she considered it. Sure, they had Keitaro up here, not to mention Haruka and Seta, but they had _both _Aoyama sisters down there. She had once seen the end results of the two of them going against one another, long before Keitaro had arrived on the scene; the carnage that had resulted was enough to keep half the building contractors in Japan busy for a month afterwards! Even though she'd also seen Keitaro shrug both warriors off quite easily less than an hour ago, she knew damn well that _any _fighting force containing two such powerhouses together would be difficult to stop in straight combat, especially given the backup of a well-armed private militia like the Guardians. They were fierce, unyielding, and stubborn to a fault; if anything, they should have been done fighting long before now!

"You think there's something down there they can't handle on their own?" she asked.

Keitaro only nodded.

Just then, a Guardians ran up to where Keitaro now stood, and addressed him, "Urashima-san, sir!"

He turned around, looking a little confused. "Huh? What are you calling _me _sir for? I don't have a rank or anything here, you know. It doesn't sound right."

"Sorry, sir," the fighter apologized, "but you do according to the Commander, effective this morning. I was ordered to find you and have you report directly to her before regrouping to treat the wounded and gather the dead."

"Oh...uh, okay, I guess," Keitaro replied, scratching his own armored neck in an unsure manner. "Uh, just so you know, most of these guys were wounded enemies. I've already done what I could to restrain them and administer a bit of first-aid."

The Guardian nodded. "Understood. That is good news; the fewer that die unaccounted for, the safer we all are," he said.

Mitsune snorted. "How does _that _make sense? Last I saw, it's the ones that _aren't _dead yet that we've gotta worry about, right?" she asked rhetorically.

The Guardian, however, was strangely silent. "Um...right?" she asked again, a little less confidently.

A crackling call on the man's radio broke past his silence. "Echo Six, have you found them?" they heard Haruka's voice asking over the airwaves.

The man held a finger to the control near his ear and responded. "Yes, Commander. They will be there shortly. We're in sector 4 at the moment."

"Good. Any more casualties in that sector?"

The Guardian looked around them before answering, "Only wounded that I can see, but I need another minute to be sure."

"Make _damn _sure, Lieutenant. You know the drill here. Keitaro, I know you can hear me; get your ass over here, and bring Mitsune with you. There's something you both need to know that won't wait."

Together, Keitaro and Mitsune soon found Haruka standing alone by the main elevator, a serious but heavily reserved expression adorning her features as she stood waiting. As they approached her, Mitsune quickly noted that the lift itself was in use, as the complex control panel next to the somewhat scorched entrance indicated that it was now approaching their level from below. Before either could ask about anything, however, Haruka began to fill in the necessary blanks for them as she spoke.

"Because of how little time there is now to fully clarify everything that needs to be said before you continue on, Keitaro," she stated without delay, "I'll start now before Seta gets here with the rest of your equipment. The fight up here is done for now, but not down below; it would seem that most of the forces of the main enemy force's leader, the kingpin Garhem Essade, has focused his main attack on the most accessible point of entry for their forces, namely the loading docks below. Unfortunately, that force includes his own private army of mercenaries...and an entire clan of the _Oni_."

"What? You mean..." Keitaro asked, surprised.

"The battle up here thus far, Kei, has been against the lesser of his forces," she finished. "The point of it is to prevent our escape, using the forces above to slow and delay any progress we might take to leave while the main force advances at our backs. In essence, he _wants _us to stay and fight, regardless of the casualties to both sides. In fact...with the _oni, _having more casualties is more of a disadvantage than you'd think, no matter _whose _side they are on. The more dead there are, the worse our situation will become."

Mitsune looked at the woman sideways, asking, "What good does it do anyone to have more dead bodies around?"

Haruka sighed, a shadow falling over her expression that made both her younger relative and his girlfriend uneasy. "How much do you know about the _oni_, Keitaro?" she asked.

Mitsune watched her boyfriend ponder the question a moment, deep in thought. "...not much, I'm afraid," he said finally. "All I know is what Motoko has said of them, that they are some form of...demon, I suppose. I _do _know she's spent more time practicing her techniques for fighting such creatures on me than she has on her own, though."

Haruka nodded. "That's right. They are indeed a form of demon, a physical manifestation of purified evil. Most of them, however, are very individualistic and powerful, seeking their own ends above all else. Most...but not all. I don't know all the details as well as Tsuruko, but...when _oni _act as a clan, their purposes change; a single demon may seek power, or destruction, or control over living human beings, but a group exists for one reason alone: propagation. The _oni _are born from death, and thus death is what an _oni _clan brings."

"Born from death? What do you mean?" Keitaro asked, but was interrupted. At that moment, a distinctly disturbing sound reached his ears, a combination of a liquid spray and the hiss and crackle of sudden flame. "What the...?"

The sight that greeted his eyes when his head snapped toward the sound was nothing short of horrific.

Not thirty feet away from where they stood in front of the nearest battle-torn tunnel entrance, a pile of corpses had been stacked nearly ten feet high and fifteen wide and across. The sight of them alone was bad enough; ally and enemy alike were piled almost carelessly together like scraps in a pig sty. Just in front of them was a set of very large electric fans, all set to a low speed and pointed toward the open tunnel, their flow directed toward and over the pile itself. Six Guardians lined each side of the pile; one side was spraying the stack with a layer of thick, gelatinous material, coating every inch of the stack that lay exposed to the air. The others were igniting the pile from the other side with military-issue short-range flamethrowers. To his horror, the goo immediately ignited as the flames licked across the mound's surface.

Even with the fans carrying the smoke and flames toward and through the gaping maw of the tunnel ahead, Keitaro could smell the overwhelming and noxious stench of dead, broiling human flesh and the sharp odor of ignited napalm. Next to him, he heard Mitsune gasp in horror; if he hadn't been transfixed by the scene himself, he might have seen her normally almost-shut eyes opening wider than he'd ever seen them.

The impact of the scene on his mind was just as overwhelming.

A pair of hands gently grabbed their shoulders just then, pulling them away from the sickening sight. "You _really _don't wanna see this one all the way through, kids," they heard Haruka saying to them as she tried to turn them away from it

For perhaps the first time in his life, something snapped in Keitaro that made him lose all sense of control. Faster than Mitsune could see him move, he had turned on his closest nearby relative and all but slammed her up against a wall, holding her a foot off the ground by the front seams of her armored shirt. "WHAT THE HELL IS THIS, HARUKA! WHAT ARE YOU **DOING **TO THEM!" he yelled, eyes blazing with a fury that rivaled that of the intense flames nearby.

Haruka was strangely calm in the face of his sudden rage, as though she had been expecting it. "Listen, Keitaro: this had to be done. You don't understand—"

"_YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT I DON'T!_" he practically growled in response, fury and disgust shaking his arms with every word even as his conscious, sane mind fought every instinct in his body for control. "You can't just **_burn _**their bodies like that! Those are _human beings_, not dead animals! Some of them just fucking DIED for us, _and this is what you're doing with their **remains**!_ Don't you know what that stuff **_is! _**There won't be enough of them left to even tell _apart_ when that stuff is done burning! _DON'T YOU CARE ABOUT THEM AT ALL!_"

"_Yes_, dammit, I do! And I hate it as much as you do, BUT WE DON'T HAVE A FUCKING CHOICE RIGHT NOW! THEY ARE MORE DANGEROUS TO US AS THEY ARE THAN YOU CAN IMAGINE!" the older Urashima snapped, her voice laced with her own sense of bitter anger and grief.

As suddenly as Keitaro's anger had come, it began to fade from him. For as long as he had known her, his "aunt" had always kept all but her strongest emotions to herself as much as she could; hearing them seep into her voice with such intensity was enough to jar him from his own, to allow his own mind to reign in the rare and powerful force his temper possessed. Teeth clenched, eyes stinging from the half-ventillated fumes, he asked in a quieter voice, "But…why? Why do this, Haruka?"

"Put me down," Haruka said, struggling to reign in her emotions again, "and I can tell you."

In spite of her own barely-controlled sense of rage and revulsion at the sight before them, Mitsune couldn't help but let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding when Keitaro's grip finally slackened to allow Haruka to slip, gently, back to stable footing on the ground. Keitaro fighting was a sight to behold, she already knew; Keitaro getting _angry _to the point of losing control was nothing short of terrifying. As Keitaro released his "aunt" and looked away, Mitsune could see a brief and slight tremor pass through Haruka's form; she had _never _seen the woman lose her composure like that, even for so short a moment.

"I'm…I'm sorry, Haruka, I didn't mean to…" Keitaro began to stammer, the mortification of his own loss of control setting in.

"It's alright, Kei, I undersand," Haruka said to him in a much steadier voice. "I know…I _know _this looks horrible and it is, but there _is _a very good reason for it. There are…_things_…in this battle coming against us that aren't human, do you understand? They are a clan born of death, for their existence is tied to it as surely as ours is tied to life. Every corpse, every fallen man, woman, or child such a clan can get ahold of can and will become one of them."

Keitaro looked at her in horror and sudden dawning. "W-what! But then..."

She nodded. "It takes some time, but it starts with a reanimated corpse. So long as the body is still relatively intact and the head is not detached or destroyed, it will rise at their command. Each becomes like a feral beast, feeding on anything it can get ahold of; eventually, its body will no longer be human, and it will become a demon unto itself. Few demons can recreate their kind, but clans are formed by the ones that can. They are the main reason people like Motoko and her sister—and a lot more of us besides—even exist to fight them: to prevent the formation of such clans, and to wipe out those that do. That's why we must do this...emergency cremation. We _cannot _afford to be surrounded by such creatures, do you understand? When the tide turns, we _must _have somewhere to go to escape it."

Keitaro felt sick to his stomach. He wanted to ask if she was joking, but he knew she wasn't. The rancid smell of death and scorching flesh made her words all too serious in his mind. The harsh reality was now becoming all too clear.

"How many, Haruka?" he asked. "How many have already died?"

"At last report, at least a hundred of our own, and perhaps two thousand of theirs. The _oni _leaders themselves have yet to make their appearance, but it won't be long before they do. Unfortunately...I don't think we have the manpower to repulse that many. Even Tsuruko has her limits, and we couldn't hope to mobilize everyone up here in time to help them. They can't win this one, Keitaro, and we've got to get as many people out of here as possible before the defense fails completely."

Keitaro let out a breath slowly, his shoulders slumping and eyes closing as he did. "...you're right. They can't win this one, not against so many...**_but I can._**"

Mitsune's heart nearly did a flip in her chest at his last three words. It was as though all the energy in the very air itself had, for the briefest of moments, surged inward toward him and seeped into his voice, making the three short syllables resonate with sudden power. Was it the sudden shift in the intensity and direction of the flames behind them that caused his eyes to suddenly flash behind the normally unassuming lenses of his spectacles? Or was it the strength that he was now revealing that made them glow, that made the flames resist the artificial winds that stoked them? She couldn't tell, but she felt the difference in his demeanor well up around her like a physical force unto itself.

"Haruka," Keitaro said, his voice resolute in a way it had never been, "I need you to send me down there, _alone_. I will face them myself, and protect those that yet live. I do not fear such demons of death, _but they **will **__fear me_."

Haruka's eyebrows went straight up.

"I'll..I'll go with him, too," Mitsune spoke up, to Keitaro's surprise, "so he won't be going without someone to watch his back. No buts, Kei-kun!" She held a finger up to his lips before he could protest. "Even if you can fight the entire _planet _on your own, I'm not letting you do it that way. Besides, they're my friends too, you know!"

Keitaro hesitated, but finally nodded. He couldn't argue with the same impulses that drove him in another, and didn't want to leave her behind, either. "...alright. But you focus on staying alive, got it?"

She nodded. "Back at ya, Kei-kun. No suicidal heroics, you hear?"

Just then, the elevator behind them opened to reveal its lone occupant. Turning, they saw Seta standing there with the remaining ammunition and useful contents of Locker 42 in a bag of his own.

Everything, that is, except the one that would neither fit nor hope to be held in so small and fragile a container. This final piece stood inverted at his side, its handle reaching past his waist and firmly held standing in his hand.

"Fourth floor: tools, supplies, superweapons!" he declared good-naturedly. "Going down, I take it?"

Keitaro smirked and nodded. "Yeah, soon as we can."

Seta nodded, his expression turning serious. "I think you should take _everything _here, if you go. You're gonna need it."

"What about you?" Keitaro asked.

"I'm gonna start getting people evacuated. Win or lose, we need to leave this place soon anyway. I take it Haruka's told you what's going to happen?" When Keitaro nodded, he continued, "The _last _thing we need is to sit still while those bastards overrun the place. Get down there and do what I know you can, Urashima-san: the sooner you do, the more likely everyone is to live through it. Hold _nothing _back."

"Got it." Keitaro crossed the lift's threshold with Mitsune, accepting the handle of the huge weapon at Seta's side and hefting it effortlessly over one shoulder. Mitsune wasted no time in taking the bag of ammo, pouring it into her own with all haste. As they prepared to descend, Haruka began keying in a unique sequence of numbers in the lift's control pad, one slightly longer than her usual code. Seta joined her at her side as she did.

"One more thing, Kei," he said with a smirk. "Brace yourself for a bumpy ride!" Haruka punched a final button in the sequence, and the lift's large doors all but slammed shut between them.

"What did he mean by thaAAAAAAAAAAH!" Mitsune started to ask before the ground beneath her feet suddenly began to drop like a stone.

Normally, the elevator ride could take at least a minute, the oversized cart programmed to move at a steady, sedate pace for the sake of any passengers and equipment it was carrying. Like most elevators, it was designed with safety features that controlled the rate of descent and halted the car if the cable pulling it broke for any reason by locking it with spring-out hooks engaged by a lack of cable tension.

Unlike most elevators, however, its core programming had an override code that engaged a powerful secondary motor on the lift wheels. This motor could accelerate the descent of the car to speeds that approached full freefall, yet still slow the descent near the end just enough to prevent a full crash.

For Mitsune and Keitaro, this meant the apparent gravity beneath them was less than half of what it normally was for about ten seconds, in which time they felt their hearts crawl up their throats and saw half their lives flashing before their eyes.

When they reached bottom, the apparent G-force swiftly went to about twice the normal level, causing both to lose their footing and stumble to the ground, hard. The giant axe, having slipped from Keitaro's shoulder, embedded itself half an inch into the metal floor next to him.

The doors slid open as swiftly as they had before, revealing a scene of swiftly deteriorating chaos. Amid blaring klaxons and scattering Guardians, a very large and lone _oni _was wreaking havoc. Though its body was riddled with a number of battle wounds large and small, it charged with berserk glee through the meager lines of defenses it was encountering before it, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. A number of wounded and dead Guardians lined the path it had already taken, and more were still in pursuit.

None, however, had any hope of stopping it, and the vicious spiked mace it carried swept away resistance before it like the edge of a tornado.

Mitsune barely had enough time to think '_HOLY SHIT!' _when it spotted and turned toward them, before Keitaro quite suddenly vanished from her side. His sword was drawn before she could blink, and in a lightning series of flashes the entire section of thick walkway between him and the demon flew apart in clean, angled pieces pieces. The armored young _kanrinin_ was upon the demon in an instant, his axe and sword charged with his _ki _as each swing tore through the startled _oni _before him. The demon never had a chance to retaliate; the slashes through the walkway had already penetrated the thick fibers of its unholy flesh and kept going, leaving a silhouette of deep gashes in the metal of the floors behind it. Before gravity could pull its now-severed limbs away from each other, the charged blades themselves tore through them again, annihilating them from existence in a brilliant series of flashes.

Keitaro landed on one knee where the _oni _had stood, his sword and axe pointing like a uneven pair of wings in his outstretched arms. Amazingly, he had entirely avoided hitting the remaining Guardians, who now stood staring with gaping expressions behind visored helmets at him. His suit all but hummed with his energy, and his blades glowed with power. The very air around him seemed to distort with the sudden upsurge of _ki_ around him.

In that instant, Mitsune finally began to understand just how powerful her boyfriend truly was.

The surge slowly died down as he relaxed, taking stock of the situation around him. Mitsune got back to her feet and began to use what was left of the stairs to approach him. As she did, she noticed the corpses in the wake of the _oni's _path and shuddered. "How the hell did you _do _that, Kei!" she asked in disbelief as she got near him.

Before he could answer her, she saw him stiffen. Barely milliseconds later, she felt a wave of malevolence sweep past her, not directed _at _her but no less chilling. "W-what was that?" she asked.

Not far behind Keitaro, a hideous, feral moan and snarl answered her.

When she saw the source of it, she screamed.

* * *

They had been winning the fight, Motoko thought to herself, until the last batch of _oni _had arrived.

Perhaps the heat of battle with so many beings of such great power had driven the key factor of their power from her mind. Had she been standing at the sidelines and observing the fight with enough time to assess the demon's ultimate stratagy, she would have realized that they were just waiting for the right moment. She would have remembered the reason _why _clans of _oni_, in the distant past, had participated in human conflicts, even going so far as to fight alongside one side or the other as "allies" for a time. Though she didn't yet know it in her conscious mind, the demon clan's true power had been saved for precisely this moment, when the fallen body count on both sides had begun to outweigh the number of those left standing by far.

Though a number of _oni _remained, and at least one had slipped past the defenses not long before with a dozen Guardians in pursuit, Motoko remained on the front lines even as her exhaustion grew more pronounced, believing the end to be near. Few human enemies remained standing, and perhaps a dozen and a half _oni _remained. The Guardians now had them surrounded, and the battle had come to a tense, temporary standoff when the remaining demons suddenly broke off their charge.

She felt, more than she saw, the approach of the final group of _oni_.

There were ten of them, she saw as they emerged without haste into the bloody arena of the battle. They were gigantic even for their own kind's standards, and were by far the ugliest and most sinister-looking of all. They needed no weapons, it was clear; they were the clan's leaders, the source points of all the other _oni _that had come to fight that day. They did not join the fight just yet, but grinned the hellish smirks of evil in its element.

All at once, they let forth a howl that would haunt everyone that heard it to their dying days, if they were lucky enough to live that long.

All around them, as though filled to capacity with the malevolence of their roar, dead human corpses twitched in a spasmodic wave, and awoke.

Only then did she remember, and the memory terrified her beyond anything she had ever felt in her life.

_Single Oni, single snare; Clan of Oni, crowd beware. For their legions are born by Death, and all are born hungry. _Those were the words of the legend she had learned at the feet of the _Shinmei_-_ryu_ masters long ago, and now they were coming true before her very eyes_  
_

One after another, the dead arose. They were human no longer, and living no more, but they stood on the parasitic power of the _oni_ that had taken their remains for their own use. What minds they still possessed were not theirs, but the will of the demonic energies that had begun to consume them.

In the span of seconds, Motoko found herself staring at the feral expressions of more zombies than she could hope to count, and they stared back at her hungrily.

Within seconds, she saw her remaining human opponents being overwhelmed from all sides by their own, fallen comrades-in-arms; the animalistic sounds the undead made as they tore them apart were sickening to her ears.

She thought she saw the leading _oni _grin as it all happened, for the reanimated corpses were ignoring _them_ entirely.

Almost as one, the zombies turned their attention to the horrified defense, and attacked.

It was all anyone could do to stay alive from that point forward, and the battle went from difficult to desperate. Motoko struck in every direction she could, bringing her remaining energies to bear against the gaping horde that beset them. All too soon, she realized that there would be no winning this battle; there were far too many to kill, and far to few to keep them at bay.

"The Horde is come! Fall back! Fall back!" she barely heard her sister yelling over the fresh din of guttural, animalistic undead moans and growls all around them. "Seal the tunnels when everyone living gets through! **Fall back!**"

Three main tunnels remained open behind the gates the defense fell back behind; each had been prepared to some degree for a breach in the defense, and had a limited number of extra tricks of their own to assist with it. As the living formed into tight clusters against the press of opponents around them, they retreated toward these tunnels as swiftly as they could. Even as many of the guardians were being torn apart by the ravenous horde, more than half made it past the first set of gates in each of these tunnels before they slammed shut to seal out the oncoming swarm.

Even as Motoko and the others around her finished off the zombies that had made it through with them, she heard the gates rattle with the force of the others coming against it from the other side.

The gates were thick, but not indestructible, Motoko realized; against the combined effors of hundred, if not thousands, of the demon-controlled zombies and the demons themselves, she knew they wouldn't last more than a few minutes at most. All at once, she felt the strain of the entire battle swiftly catch up with her.

Breathing heavily and beginning to stumble from the mounting exhaustion, she took the opportunity to examine the remaining forces around her. Her heart sank as she saw them; though she knew that her sister had most likely made it down a different tunnel, she recognized only one other person among far too few faces. How in the world he had managed to stay alive so long, she couldn't say, but the shorter of her _kanrinin_'s two best friends was there nonetheless. She didn't know where the other was, but figured he was either with a different group, or was dead.

Or…not.

She shuddered violently, no longer unwilling to admit her own fear to herself. She was tired and terrified, and no amount of training and self-discipline would ever hope to change that for her now. She knew what these foes were, what they would become, and _how _they would become it. She was getting very close to passing out from exhaustion, and the only things between her and a brief, bitter struggle to her own horrific end were a few inches of steel plate and perhaps a dozen other equally tired fighters of questionable skill. The only one besides herself that even had a weapon capable of facing both demon and undead alike had about half an hour of experience under his belt at most and looked equally as terrified as she was, if not more.

She felt as close to admitting defeat as she had ever felt in her life at that moment.

With all of her being, Motoko hated the weakness exhaustion was bringing within her, yet there was little she could do about it now. A small part of her began to wonder at it, though. She had always felt so determined to be strong on her own, so positive that she could do so by her own force of will that she felt she didn't need others to survive. Now, her survival increasingly hinged on how many there were at her side, how long the already groaning and warping metal gates would last, and how much power was left in the strange weapon that—what was his name? Shirai something-or-other?—was using.

It didn't help matters in her mind that they were all males to boot, but the situation was too desperate now for her to even care anymore.

"Son…of a fucking…bastard-whore," she heard him swearing as he caught his breath next to her. "Why did it…have to be…zombies?" To her surprise, she saw him straighten up with a look somewhere between terror and stubborn anger on his round face. "Come on! We've gotta get moving, or we won't make it. I don't know about any of you, I'm not gonna give 'em the satisfaction of giving up without a fight, dammit! We stay here, we're fucked; we find cover to shoot from, and we might have a chance. C'mon!"

It was strange how little pride and honor began to mean to her when it came right down to it. She had to hand it to the punk: he was just as determined as Keitaro in fighting to the end, whether he could really win against the absurd odds or not. She had thought he would've given up long before now, but he hadn't; as contradictory to everything she had ever believed as it was, the short doofus was the only one crazy enough among them to keep moving.

And yet move they did, thanks to that. She didn't know if it would make a difference, but as she struggled to follow suit herself she was at least grateful for that.

* * *

The main problem with a shotgun, Haitani was quickly coming to realize, was that there was only so much ammo one could carry for it at once.

Sure, as far as guns went, there was nothing better in close quarters, though the shredding mess of flesh it made at close range made his stomach queasy every time he saw it. He could ignore it for now, of course, since the need to survive kind of outweighed everything else on his mind at the moment, but he would never look at raw hamburger the same way again. But when each shell was the size of (and nearly the same weight as) a roll of large coins, carrying enough ammo for a prolonged firefight like this was like lugging around fifty dollars worth of pennies everywhere.

Granted, it got a lot lighter quick enough, but that wasn't necessarily a good thing, either, especially now that he needed the damn things more than ever.

He hoped Shirai was okay; the last he'd seen of him was just before he'd retreated into one of the base's main corridors, and the heavy iron gate now keeping back a combination of several hundred zombies and some very ugly-assed demons to boot also prevented him from finding out if he'd made it or not. Still, they weren't so bad off yet where he was: there were at least three guys with the same weapon Shirai was using here, not to mention Commander Hot-Assed-Death-On-Two-Legs Tsuruko herself. Hoshiti had gone in a different direction, as far as he knew. Most of the Guardians had made it here as well, about fifty or so all told. Still, a little over half a hundred against what would probably amount to about a third of everyone that had fallen on both sides in all their undead glory (not to mention more of those damned _oni _smegheads) didn't make for very good odds.

As the remaining forces radioed for what backup there was to be had and reorganized their defensive positions during the respite given by the closed gate, Haitani loaded the last of his shells in his shotgun and frowned. Seven shots and three extra wasn't going to be enough. Before he could decide whether to continue fighting with it or find another dropped weapon instead, a hand grabbed his shoulder from the side to get his attention. To his surprise, it was Tsuruko herself asking him, "You're a friend of Urashima-san, correct?"

Quickly glancing over at the face of the older Aoyama sister, he replied, "Uh, yeah, why do you ask?"

"Good. I need you to go to the safe zone ahead. We may not be able to hold this horde back for much longer once the gates are breached. They will need to be warned and moved deeper into the base. If any there can fight, or if any Guardians remain free to join and assist us, arm them and bring them back if you can, or send them into one of the other tunnels. I see that you are low on ammunition as it is, and this fight would require much more than you have. Go, quickly!"

He didn't need to be told twice. With ten shells left to his name, he was in no position to argue with her, either. He'd be out of ammo and options in a minute if he stayed, and he had a feeling he would want what ammo he had left handy in case something happened along the way. "Alright, I'll be back as soon as I can with whoever and whatever I can find to help."

At the very least, if there _was _anyone in the safe zone willing to fight, the Toy Box was only fifteen feet away, and he'd be able to grab more ammo while they were there. Maybe he'd grab a few machine guns while he was at it.

He moved as quickly as he could, abandoning the immediate and imminent battle for the time being. With many of the Guardians still slowly retreating to stake out the most defensible positions possible and the gates warping inward not far behind him, he knew he had little time to carry out his task before things got more dangerous and ugly than he cared to think about.

Of course, he didn't miss the fact that the more-than-likely bit of heroics he would need to do, however small overall, would no doubt earn him a brownie point or two with certain individuals _within _the safe zone itself, especially a few that (according to Keitaro, anyway) might take his head off otherwise. Man, he _loved _the kind of woman that could kick his ass!

That, of course, was provided they all survived this. There _was _that little problem: brownie points were worthless to (and for) dead people. Had to focus on staying alive and keeping _them _alive before he could willingly throw life and limb in deadly peril in the name of love, after all!

When he arrived at the safe zone moments later, he was nearly shot by the half-dozen Guardians guarding the entrance. "Whoa, guys, chill out! Same side." he said quickly, holding his hands up in front of him in as non-threatening a manner as he could manage, causing them to hold off. "That Commander Aoyama lady sent me. They're getting pushed back this way as we speak, and they'll be in deep shit without some heavy artillery for backup! Dunno why, but the demons we were fighting earlier just made zombies out of every dead guy in or out of the damn base, and they're ganging up on all the main drag hallways into this place. They need anyone that can help fight to get down there and start shooting, and they said to get everyone that can't to somewhere further in where it's still relatively safe in the meantime."

Two of the Guardians glanced at each other, somewhat confused by his quick rant, but another simply nodded. "So, it is as we have feared after all. Alright, we shall go and assist," the masked Guardian said with an oddly clipped accent that almost (but just not quite) sounded familiar to Haitani. "There's a few more squads inside standing guard; we'll go help with the fight if you can get everyone else out. The nearest safe zone is through the back entrance, past the armory and down the left hall, on the right."

Haitani nodded. "Alright. I'll come back when everyone's moved, but I'll need more ammo. I'm ten shots shy of empty at the moment," he said, nodding toward the gun on his back.

In seconds, the door of the safe zone slid open, and the same man he had just spoken with (evidently a squad leader of some sort) quickly explained the situation to the others stationed within. Haitani noted with some interest that each member of these reserve squads was rather uniquely equipped; several had somewhat modified uniforms and armor, while most were clearly sporting extra weaponry of every kind. At least three carried large packs loaded with reserve supplies of ammo and equipment, as though they were ready and waiting for a prolonged and difficult fight ahead. '_Then again,_' Haitani mused to himself, '_if these guys are supposed to be the backup fighters, that would make sense. Didn't he say they were expecting something like this to happen?_'

Whatever the case, the group was ready to go in less than one minute. As the squads filed out, the same squad leader slapped a pair of extra key cards in his hand, saying, "Here, you'll need these; I'm pretty sure you're not on the payroll, right?"

Haitani snorted. "Yeah, something like that. Friend of mine's fighting here, and I figured I could help out a bit."

The Guardian nodded. "Use the yellow one to seal this door before you leave. If something happens and they break through, that'll give you some more time. The red one opens the armory; grab what you can before you leave, and give some of the older ones a weapon if you can, you'll probably be needing it." A somewhat muffled crash of heavy metal not very far off punctuated his statement. "And, although I think she can take care of herself pretty well, make sure my little sister doesn't get herself hurt, would you?"

"Got it, uh, sir! By the way, which one's your—" Haitani began to ask, but the masked squad leader had already run after his men. '_Ooookaaay, never mind, then,_' he thought in frustration. How the heck was he supposed to know who the guy was talking about? He turned around, looking at the armored room behind him, hoping to at least take a guess.

Unfortunately for him, there were more possibilities than answers, and the ever-increasing sounds of the battle behind him brought his mind back to the task at hand. Not only were Keitaro's residents and friends here, but quite a few others as well, and they were now depending on _him _(of all people) to get to safety. "Yo, folks!" he said loudly enough to get everyone's attention. "Hate to break it to ya, but things are gonna get rough pretty damn quick. I need everyone to come with me and get further in the base _right now._"

At first, it seemed as though things would go smoothly. Whether out of fear of being attacked or a degree of understanding the situation at hand, everyone present seemed willing to get moving when they heard the violence of battle getting louder and closer than ever. Using the yellow card, he unsealed the rear doors of the large room, telling them to start heading out and down the hall as they opened slowly to let them through.

To his chagrin, however, not everyone was moving in the right direction. Most went in the direction of the next safe area as quickly as they could, but not all; before he could stop it, one of the younger girls had flipped and handsprung into what he could only imagine was Snappy the Mechanical Rambo Tortoise. To his surprise, the mechanical beast rose, fearsome arsenal of weapons deployed and ready, and took off through the wrong door in a completely different direction than he had come. "What the—hey, wait!" he yelled, but it was already moving too fast for him to hope to catch now, and a triumphantly grinning and cheering bronze-and-blonde girl was closing the top hatch as it went. "Errgh, _dammit_…where the hell is _she _going!" he asked nobody in particular.

"Do not worry," another voice he vaguely recognized told him, its owner gently tugging the sleeve of his bulletproof overshirt to get his attention. Looking back, he immediately recognized Mutsumi, who continued to tell him, "Kaolla-chan will be fine in her Mecha-Tama, she said so herself!"

Making a split decision, he gave one last glance in the runaway mecha's direction before growling in frustration. "I hope you're right; I've gotta seal this door before we leave, and she's off galavanting toward a zombie horde in a metal _turtle!_"

"Oh, dear…that doesn't sound very good! Perhaps we should…oh!"

And just like that, the woman fainted, nearly taking him down to the ground with her. Fortunately for him, his footing was a bit better than Keitaro's most typically was in just such a situation, and he barely stumbled where his friend might have face-planted into the watermelon-loving girl's own binary patch.

'_Crap on a frickin' stick!_' he thought to himself as he barely caught the woman's wrist and slowed her descent toward the ground. As he moved to gather the unconscious woman off the ground from behind, he thought, '_One takes off in a reptilian tank, another's passed out on me, what next?_'

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HER, YOU PERVERT!"

Inwardly, Haitani groaned to himself. '_Figures. Now I know what Keitaro feels like! How the hell does he stay sane around these chicks!_' Still cradling the unconscious woman in one arm with the keycards in his hand and keeping one arm free to use his shotgun, he decided that now was _not _the best time to follow in his friend's footsteps in dealing with it.

"I'm trying to get her, _and _you, _and _everyone else out of here before one of us gets shot, blown up, cut in half, or eaten, Naru!" he managed to halfway yell before she could get close enough to strike. "If you're gonna hit me, save it for later! Right now, she's out like a light and we _have to get moving_, so give me a hand here, will ya!"

Though Haitani didn't know it, the fact that Naru actually took enough time to actually listen to him was a small miracle in and of itself. In the time it took to do so, she saw the sporadic flashes of light of gunfire bouncing off the metal and concrete walls in the distance, driving home in her mind the fact that he might indeed have a point.

"…Fine, I'll get her feet," she said, and moved to pick up the unconscious Mutsumi's legs off the ground.

When they had just made it through the first security gate and back into the now-empty safe zone, a thought occurred to Naru suddenly remembered something she'd heard earlier and stopped Haitani before he could close it. "Wait! They were treating some wounded guys in the room across the hall! Shouldn't we get them first?"

Haitani hesitated, thinking fast. "Maybe, but I don't think there's enough time…do you think any can still walk? We can't carry everyone ourselves."

"Uh…maybe. Although a few didn't look like they were gonna make it anyway. We could just—"

Haitani stopped dead in his tracks. "Not gonna make it! You mean..._oh, __**fuck!**_"

As if on cue, the relatively flimsy double doors to the small medical ward not fifteen feet away from them burst open, spewing forth the battle-mangled undead bodies of five former Guardians and four half-eaten medics at once. Quickly tossing the yellow card to Naru, he yelled, "SHUT THE GATES NOW!" and began firing.

As Haitani emptied his weapon into the charging mini-horde, Naru (having seen them for herself) all but ran to the card reader on the wall, swiping the card as fast as she could through it and praying it would work the first time. Immediately, the heavy door slid toward her side of the opening from the opposite end, closing just as one of the zombies was reaching around the corner at her. The metallic barrier slammed on the limb and severed it, but not before its hand had grabbed hold of her hair.

"OW!" she yelled, feeling a chunk of brunette leaving the front of her scalp even as the limb fell lifeless to the ground. Adrenaline still pumping through her system, she felt the spot where the hair had been pulled even as her body stumbled backward and away from the offending limb.

'_Shit, now I'm down to three shots and there's already zombies on our heels_,' Haitani thought to himself as he checked to make sure both Naru and Mutsumi were okay. Mutsumi was beginning to stir behind him as she regained consciousness. "You okay?" he asked her, and the woman nodded at him as she sat up. When she looked toward the door, however, she gasped.

Naru was sprawled backward, eyes wide in shock and twitching in anger, and looking at a small but significant portion of her hair in the hand of a severed arm on the floor.

Missing from the front of her head was one of the two antenna-like protrusions of her hair.

And then, out of nowhere, her face stilled, and the normally outspoken and emotional young woman became dead quiet.

For some reason, the sudden change in her demeanor scared Haitani worse than the zombies themselves did. Naru, by long-established reputation, was never, _ever_, that calm.

Deep down, he knew, she wasn't calm at all.

When she demanded, in a steady voice that betrayed nothing in its tone and everything at once, that he give her the card to open the armory, he didn't dare refuse, even though every instinct he had demanded that he run like hell. The only thing that kept him from doing so was the fact that, come what may, he wasn't the target at the moment.

He hoped he wasn't, anyway.

With precision and absolute rigidity that would make a military instructor proud, Naru marched directly to the Toy Box and opened the doors, with both Mutsumi and Haitani following her cautiously at a short but safe distance. Not taking his eyes off of her for a second as she examined the remaining artillery within, Haitani took the opportunity to silently gather more ammo, as much as he could reasonably carry. Naru scanned the room, eyes moving from one implement of destruction to the next.

Quite suddenly, her gaze fixed on a lone point in the room, and her feet propelled her toward it.

When Haitani followed her line of sight with his eyes, he spotted exactly what she was looking at and nearly went to his knees with terrifying realization. He knew what it was all too well. It was a weapon both old and powerful, its very portability stretched to the theoretical limit of possibility. One didn't need to be accurate with such a weapon; with six barrels rotating at high speed to fire rifle-caliber ammunition at the rate of well over a thousand rounds a minute, the handheld GE M134 Minigun simply needed to be pointed in the right general direction.

"This is what we're gonna do, _baka_," Naru said in that chillingly even tone as she hefted the weapon with unnatural ease, the tiny trickle of blood from where her hair had been pulled tracing a series of thin red lines like ancient war paint down her forehead. "I'm going to use this thing on those undead bastard _fucks_, and you're going to push this ammo cart and cover my back while I'm doing it. Mutsumi, you're gonna stay awake long enough to get to that other safe zone, and you're gonna stay there and watch over everyone else for me. _Got it?_"

Swallowing hard, both Haitani and Mutsumi uttered, "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

A.N.: Man, this chapter was a bitch to write, but well worth it. This is, currently, its fifth incarnation since I started it, and while the basic structural format of where I wanted to go with it stayed practically the same from the outset, the manner in which I went about it (the nature and scope of the battles, and the point to which I would write in them in one chapter) changed repeatedly and dramatically. I've rewritten basically every part of it two to four times apiece, chunk by chunk, even AFTER uploading it to FFN for "final" edition. Basically, I didn't write it so much as let it evolve as I needed and wanted it to. The good news, though, is that while this chapter is slightly shorter than I had originally planned on, the raw material for the next chapter is already halfway complete, so _maybe _I'll be able to update a little faster with Chapter 15 than I did with this one.

I mentioned that an abnormally large number of things were referenced in this chapter in the disclaimer, and there were. The title (which, up until the very last revision, was going to be a line from a special, namely "Always Have A Zombie Plan") refers to the character Rasheed from the _Cowboy Bebop _movie, which I also (again) shamelessly referred to with a line in Haitani's thought process in the chapter itself. Props to those that can find it; I did it more as a tribute to Steve Blum than anything, who ironically voices both Spike Spiegel and Masayuki Haitani. (Incidentally, the old woman at the beginning of the same movie is voiced by the same person that voices Mitsune Konno; meanwhile, Keitaro is voiced by Derek Stephen Prince, the same guy that voiced the brothers Shin and Lin later in the _Bebop _series, and Wendy Lee, the voice behind Faye Valentine, did the dub for Kaolla Su, of all characters. Meanwhile, Kanako Urashima, Keitaro's adopted little sister, is voiced by Melissa Fahn, who voiced _Bebop's _hacker girl Edward. Go figure!) Other inspirations came from _Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII_ (the part where Sephiroth is "sparring" with Genesis and Angeal on the simulated Mako Cannon, and he in particular goes on the offensive), _Resident Evil_, _Onimusha_, _Predator_…the list goes on from there, but I can't think of everything off the top of my head at the moment, and some others technically will refer to parts of the next chapter that were going to be in this one. Sorry, had to cut it somewhere; it was beginning to get a bit unwieldy to do _everything _in one fell swoop. Aside from that, I seriously enjoyed writing (primarily) from Haitani's perspective, however briefly. I always try to crawl inside the heads of each character I write, and his was more fun than I had expected it to be.

Next chapter: the defenders get a much-needed boost as three individuals enter the fray at full power against the hordes of hungry demon-possessed corpses. Expect heavy carnage, numerous random flying body parts, and a 100% chance of severe epic-ness in action, in that approximate order. If I'm lucky, we'll see a bit more of at least one...no make it two...of the other major villains in play as well. Plus, I FINALLY will get to begin to show where I came up with the name for this fic in the first place.


	15. Ch15: Never EVER Do This To Badgers

Disclaimer and pre-chapter notes: *sighs* Must I repeat myself? Get a better short term memory, people!

The more I tweak this thing, the more it evolves. My ideas of how this story will ultimately flow have changed with this evolution, but only in certain regards. I think I might be getting rid of Merten Dripe in the final revision; Essade and Dubate, however, will ultimately remain. Just a word of warning, folks; I never really gelled with the idea of that one as much as I wanted to, and Essade has pulled bigger surprises on me than I had originally anticipated he would. I just can't break the action properly at this point if I have to deal with that character as I had originally planned; maybe in another part later on, but for now I'm just cutting him out entirely in the course of revising the rest of the chapters.

For now, though they may indeed seem cute and cuddly, take heed:

* * *

Chapter 15: Never, EVER, Do This to a Family of Badgers: **AYEDYEDYEDYEH**_**AAAHAAUGH**_**!**

At the Hinata, home of the fearsome, unruly, and dangerous, one thing had always been certain: if you see a giant turtle, run like hell before _it_ sees _you_.

Giant turtles were the signature stock and trade of only one resident in the all-girls dorm, a very eccentric and brilliant girl barely into her early teens with an obsession for bananas and things that go boom. Indeed, Kaolla Su often rode, programmed, and even _wore _her Mecha-Tamas the way another person would don shoes and ride bikes; despite a long and often dangerous history of glitches and setbacks in her designs, she had always utilized each model she would create to the fullest possible and learn as much as she could from its successes and failures.

In a girl's dormitory headed by a frequently unlucky male _kanrinin_, this alone ensured a monthly repair bill higher in cost than the mechanical war machines themselves, but until very recently no one seemed to really object, either. After all, it's hard to reason with an energy ball, even one with a brain.

It also ensured that few people took the hyperactive barefoot Mol-Mollian very seriously, even at the best of times. Sure, her friends and co-habitants knew when to enjoy her company and when to duck for cover, but none would ever guess just how much the girl actually understood of the world around her.

A lack of maturity, however, should never be confused with a lack of understanding. Kaolla Su's picture of reality was never far from reality, no matter what her reaction was to it.

For instance, when Haruka had informed the residents of the need to pack up and jump ship for safer ground, Su had taken the task of sorting through her inventions _very _seriously. Even _she _knew, through simple logic, that whatever she left could be used against them, or stolen, or both; she had been told to bring the most accurate and controllable of her heaviest weaponry, and to either take or destroy the information she had on making any of it. While the others had been thoroughly confused, the young girl had reached her own conclusions and acted accordingly. Much as she enjoyed chasing the others and her _kanrinin _around with ballistic missiles, she didn't trust another with _any _of it for a second.

She had even gone a step further than this at the time. In place of blueprints (most of which were strictly stored in her brain anyway), she had packed a few choice robotic components and materials left over from her previous inventions and a robust tool set to work with. Under the loose guise of having something to do, she had set to work almost immediately upon their arrival, cannibalizing an old tank for parts and preparing a working, useful model of a Mecha-Tama in record time.

Sure, it wasn't her _very _best in terms of appearances, but who's going to really argue with working artillery in close quarters? Not Kaolla Su, that's for sure. She had put in the best of all her previous models, the parts and designs that she knew would work without hazarding a guess.

There was one component, however, that she had wisely decided to leave out. Perhaps with more time (and poor Keitaro's help, of course), she'd have the opportunity to continue working on fixing that one bug her inventions seemed to _always _suffer from, even some of the more benign-looking ones. For now, she left out the mecha's computerized guidance systems, and replaced them with a simple set of internal manual controls.

Thanks in no small part to her longtime best friend in the Hinata, Kaolla Su didn't really feel all _that _afraid for herself. She admired Motoko's warrior spirit, and had long ago resolved to adopt the better part of it herself. When it came down to it, there was something _she _could do, something her friends couldn't hope to master in a short period of time.

She could pilot her own inventions, and pilot them well. Her brain was faster than any computer she could make, and she already knew her own "bugs."

As the oblong-looking mechanical reptile rounded a final corner, her resolve grew even further. Boy, the bad guys were big and ugly! She could see them ahead, running toward her. The one she was looking at was as hairy as a bear, and about as strong as one, too…

Oh, wait, he had that funky armor! She realized just in time that he wasn't her target, and took her fingers off the triggers for her arsenal. She glanced past him on her display to see if she could see…

'_Oh. Wow._'

She took back her earlier thought. Big Bear Guy was the looker; the _things _he was beating back with that iron stick and awesome energy projector as he ran won the Ugliest Villains of the Year award, hands down.

They were so repulsive, she forgot to feel hungry. She _never _forgot to feel hungry, and didn't like the feeling one bit. It was like her innards were stomping around each other in circles, something even _she _knew they weren't supposed to do.

_Boy_, were there a lot of them, too. And why were they all trying to eat each other? Gross.

She checked her displays. '_Missles armed, lasers charged, fireball chuckers lit and ready…party time!_' she thought with renewed enthusiasm.

In front of her, a few dozen good guys were still running her way, including the ursine man. All looked kind of silly, shooting over their backs like that, but the good thing was that they seemed to get the idea that the place to be just now was _behind _her Mecha-Tama, not in front of it.

As the big one caught sight of it, she saw his eyes twinkle with the same mischievous glow everyone was always telling her _she _had. He actually seemed to _enjoy _the idea of her testing it out on the bad guys, and was hearily laughing with glee.

She was starting to _like _that guy, big though he was. Everyone else always chastised her for her inventions. With a grin of her own, she opened up with everything she had.

Some of them were lucky enough to dodge the barrage, so to speak. Most weren't. The ones that looked like they should have had last rites performed already fared the worst, as swift shambling was never enough to dodge guided ordnance. The big ones would have done better, had they a _little _more space to move around in.

Su's opening salvos reversed the flow of the skirmish in the space of a heartbeat. Soon, Mecha-Tama was crawling forward, flanked and assisted by a group of defenders that had found new spirit and hope in its shadow.

It wasn't exactly _funny_, but the turn of events had still brought laughter back to their hearts, and it came out in spurts and fits as the terrifying _things _that had been set to overwhelm and consume them all were quickly getting their asses handed back to them, courtesy of one giant metal turtle and the crazy young foreigner at the wheel.

It was better than facing the stress of it all head-on, after all. Especially when there was a battle to win.

And for their part at least, they had already won.

* * *

The problem with swordplay, Tsuruko considered to herself as she forced her body to maintain the breakneck pace of fighting still necessary for survival, was the degree of effort it took to overcome the limits of range.

In a normal battle, even against ranged weaponry, the sword could be used as effectively as any weapon, because the one using the blade was free to move. At Tsuruko's level of skill, bullets were more an annoyance than anything, something to be blocked or avoided half a moment before the edge of her own weapon ended the struggles of her opponents in a single stroke. Even when she was pinned down, the many secret _ki _techniques at her disposal could cross the distances for her, allowing her to sweep away what she could not reach on foot.

The real problem, however, didn't have to do with closing the distances or crossing them at need; it lay in properly maintaining them.

The opponents they now faced were relentless and inhuman; the effort to take down one had easily doubled, and the number to face at once had multiplied tremendously. Even a wide-arc blast of _ki _could only drive back the advance of such foes for brief moments, and for every one that fell two more were rushing to fill the gap in its place.

It was times like these that the master kendoist could truly appreciate ranged weapons, because the three-foot radius her sword could carve before her was too close for comfort against a hungry horde. Bullets gave her enough space to work with, even though she wasn't the one firing them; every inch was a fraction of a moment more that she could remain standing and fighting, and not be overwhelmed in mid-stroke.

Even with the backup of the Molmolian squads, which had arrived minutes earlier with the up-and-coming leaders themselves, there was barely enough manpower and firepower to keep the hordes at bay and only so long they could do so. Every man left standing was now essential; if one fell, the horde would not be kept back for more than a moment's time, and it would only take one breach for the entire defensive line to be overwhelmed.

In the back of her mind, Tsuruko noted the patterns of fire sweeping across the advancing zombies, most of which were gathered like a wave poised to crash over them. There were still hundreds before them, even if there were no more on the way, survival was now a matter of maintaining an impossible perfection.

All at once, it seemed, that perfection began to falter. For the briefest of moments, there was a split in the fire near the center, and like a dam bursting, the enemy suddenly surged toward her through the break.

She had maybe a second to register that the battle was lost, that there were now too many to hold back on her own, before the zombies were upon her. In that brief moment, Tsuruko knew fear like she had never experienced in her life, and faced it with all the bearing of a warrior she could bring. Death stared her in the face, and though she wanted to scream she did not. Come what may, she would go out fighting.

Just as suddenly, the visage of her own end vanished in a sudden, impossibly furious hail of fire.

In a split second, she turned her head and caught sight of the new source of destructive fury, and the reason she had nearly met her end. A slight divide in the ranks had been made just behind where she stood, wide enough to allow a single figure to stand with her weapon at ready. The weapon itself was just beginning to buck in her grip, the six barrels emitting their salvo of rifle-caliber lead rounds in rapid succession as they rotated in a blur too fast for the human eye to properly follow.

Even for a warrior such as Tsuruko, a woman that had faced down evils and Death itself the likes of which most will never encounter in their lifetimes, the look of pure fury on the face of the weapon's handler was a sight she knew would haunt her to the end of her days.

Tsuruko dived sideways and backward, out of range of the cone of fire that the weapon produced in the next few seconds. The undead horde screeched nearly in unison as the bullets swept and cut through them like flying serrated blades. Two hundred rounds per second flew out of the gun, the heat of their passing nearly melting them into a continuous stream of flying lead that twisted and lashed like the tail of a serpentine dragon. Even the remaining _oni _stood little chance under the assault, their high levels of resilience cut to the bone before they could register what was hitting them.

All other guns had fallen silent, most for lack of ammunition, but Naru's minigun roared in their wake. The sound almost outstripped the horrific screeches of the demon-raised corpses as they were ripped apart and annihilated before her, several hundred of them all at once. The mass of them writhed in agony as smoke and vaporized flesh choked the air around them.

By the time the gun barrels stopped spinning, their chambers finally exhausted of live ammunition and the chain feeding the behemoth gatling gun back to its beginning point, the smoke was all that still stirred before them.

The weapon clattered to the ground, its handler's rage now spent. The girl swayed where she stood, the exhaustion of wrangling the massive weapon as it had spewed annihilation finally catching up with her. There was a small amound of blood trickling down her forehead, Tsuruko now saw, coming from a small hole near the edge of her hairline that looked to be just skin deep. As though coming out of a trance, the girl's eyes widened in horror at the scene before her, as though disbelieving the possibility of it.

Tsuruko could sympathize. The end result of unbridled fury was never a sight one wanted to see, especially one's own. The haze of red that accompanied such a berserker state drained away all too soon from one's sight; in place of adrenalin, one was left with a private horror, a vision of what one has wrought that would likely never leave them again.

Mercifully, it seemed, the shock of it overwhelmed the young woman, and her eyes rolled back into her head in the same direction that she began to fall. Her descent was broken by the friend of Urashima that Tsuruko had sent minutes earlier to call on reinforcements and warn the others to retreat to relative safety; he managed to catch the girl by the back of her shoulders before she had fully slumped to the ground, and eased her down the rest of the way more gently.

Those left standing retained their shock a few moments longer, staring open-mouthed at the shredded remains of everything before them. What was left of the walls was blackened and slick with the shredded remains of their enemies, some still smouldering where errant flames from spontaneously self-combusting fallen _oni _had touched them. The stench of death and burnt flesh had grown from utterly revolting to overpowering, and quite a few of the remaining Guardians retched from it.

Tsuruko was only slightly more used to such scenes than the others were; even so, the scale of the one before her took her aback as well. And yet her attention did not stay on it for very long; though the battle before them had been won, she knew it wasn't yet over elsewhere. True to her commanding position, she forced herself back into action, her voice breaking others out of their stupor as she gave commands.

And then, all at once, she felt the touch of a power of overwhelming magnitude sweeping past her, an expansion of _ki _that would have swept the corridor and everything in it clear into the right-hand wall had it been physically directed at them. Its effects were felt even by those normally not sensitive to such things, its influence sweeping over them in a manner few really understood.

Tsuruko alone among them knew exactly what the source of it had been, but the knowledge alone did nothing to curb her own disbelieving reaction. Like a fingerprint, the force had a unique signature, a single identity retained and magnified over a wide spectrum from miniscule to magnificent.

There was only one person that could saturate the very air itself with his signature, and she both regretted that she would not see him in action and feared whatever had provoked him to magnify it so drastically.

She had a feeling, though, that Narusegawa wasn't the only one that would leave this place with nighmares of their own making.

* * *

It was a nightmare that wouldn't end, Motoko soon realized.

She was fighting a battle against a foe that had no fear, no feeling except hunger, no end in number that she could see. Even as dozens were felled by herself and those few that remained, hundreds remained. A thousand or more at least had come their way, and that was only what she could see of them.

The zombies that attacked did so en masse. Those that held back feasted on any fallen they could find, and the surplus of flesh was making them ever stronger.

Even as the defenders fought back with all their remaining strength, a hundred new _oni _were being born before their eyes, and the odds grew even worse.

Retreat was only getting them so far. They could stay ahead of the undead; the demons were a much different story.

Quite suddenly, they found themselves up against something none could defeat: a small armored gate that sealed the path of their escape. There was no time to get it open now; the horde was massed barely thirty feet away, and closing. They were in no hurry. The bastards had them cornered, and knew it.

"It…seems that this…is where…we die, then," Motoko muttered, out of breath, her mind slowly accepting her fate even as her will refused to accept it. Only five of them remained, and one was occupied with the door; the rest couldn't hope to hold off the advance of their foes and live.

But if one of them were to hold them off, the rest might live. She prepared herself for one final effort, the last she was capable of giving.

"I'll hold them off. Get out of here!"

She wasn't the one to say the words. Shirai was. In spite of the nearness of their doom, that simple fact shocked the hell out of her.

"W-what!"

"I'm the only one that can hold them back now, and someone has got to get that gate closed before they can follow. I'm slow as hell, and I already promised to protect my friend's friends. Didn't know I'd die for it, but I still plan on keeping it if I can…fuck, just get going!"

"But…"

"I can hold them off for about twenty or thirty seconds tops, but if you keep going the way you are, you won't last ten," he insisted, firing his unorthodox weapon to hold back the advance for just a little longer. "There's too many to keep back with a sword at once, you need something with range to do that and I have just enough to cover your escape. Now go!"

The enemies began to charge them in earnest now, and his weapon flared to full power. He swept the beam back and forth, keeping them barely at bay and yelling for all his small frame was worth.

The gate finally slid open, and the three others quickly went through. She had to run. Run or die. No, her mind wouldn't accept that: she would run, get help, _quickly_. Something, anything, it didn't matter. He was right, and if she didn't do something _fast_, he'd end up dead.

Or she could collapse where she stood now, and give up trying. But giving up was never an option for Motoko.

She ran, even as what little energy she had left drained from her with each step.

She made it only eight stumbling steps before her legs gave out. Ten feet beyond the gate, Shirai still stood, the demons and undead still closing in on him.

The gate began to shut just as the power pack in his weapon finally sputtered and died.

Ten _oni _charged toward him, moving with inhuman speed. At their back was the horde, sweeping forward now without resistance. He had perhaps two seconds to live; even as he tried to dive for the gate, she knew he'd never make it.

For a brief instant, time was meaningless. Honor was meaningless. She saw the scene in front of her as though the moment of time was being engraved into her brain. She saw an angle of truth she had not allowed herself to witness before, a facet of reality she would have pointedly ignored days earlier, if faced with a similar scene.

She saw regret in herself. Regret, that she was unable to change what was about to happen. Regret, that she hadn't had enough time to thank someone for protecting her existence, when she was unwilling and unable to do so herself. Regret, that she only learned of this now, at the imminent cost of another's life.

She saw on the slight, round-faced expression of the one Urashima had counted as a friend a mixture of emotions, a mass of contradictions. She saw his fear, yes, that instinct of self preservation that all that live feel, but she saw more than this. There was determination, her oldest friend, the one that carried her to override her own fears at need. She saw muted acceptance, as though he knew this would happen, yet stood by his own choice. She saw…surprise?

Very suddenly, something blew past Motoko fast enough to draw her further off her balance with its wake. The moment of near standstill all but vanished with its advent; it practically flew in a blur of muted colors, propelled by a momentum not entirely its own. Shirai's last stumble turned into a dive for cover as the flying blur tore _through_ the closing metal of the gate without slowing. Shirai hit the ground just as the blur passed over his head, the form somehow missing him by the smallest of margins.

The demons behind him, however, had no such chance at avoidance.

She saw a series of flashes, an immense releasal of power unlike anything she had seen before, and the first line of enemies were quite literally annihilated in an instant.

It wasn't until the myriad of residual, air-distorting arcs of power had expanded to their full circuit, annihilating every surface they struck, that she realized what they were. There had been no announcement or buildup for these _ki_-infused strikes, as she had so often experienced in performing her own secret techniques; instead, the one that had delivered the blows had produced them in an instant, fully charged and focused at a rate that was faster than anything she could hope to match by far.

For the briefest of moments, the horde hesitated. This alone was surprising; even the undead seemed to hesitate in their mindless assault, in the face of this new opponent. Standing before them, between friend and foe, was a man cloaked and armored, an enormous axe in one hand and an archaic _dai-katana_ in the other.

Weapon and warrior alike glowed with power overwhelming, and the sight of them was terrifying to behold.

Motoko didn't need to see his face to know who it was, but the sheer power of his _ki _overwhelmed the limits of her own belief.

"_You…will…__**not…TOUCH… MY…FRIENDS!**_" he declared, the power in his voice so strong that it vibrated the surroundings like an earthquake. He stood alone against a thousand foes undaunted, as though he could wipe them out in an instant. For the briefest moment, Motoko found herself willing to believe he could make such a thing happen, even against so many powerful opponents at once. Each that now stood had survived the fight with her so far, and looked like they could do so for quite a while longer.

Whatever the effect of his appearance, the _oni _soon seemed both wary and angered by the display. The largest ordered the rest to attack, and they quickly moved to obey.

But Keitaro did not merely fight back, as Motoko and the others had. He did not limit himself with the precision of exacting technique, or the need to preserve the life of his foe.

Instead, he utterly annihilated them.

Never had she seen _anyone _fight as he now fought. The _oni, _fast and ruthless as they were, could not hope to match him. _Every_ move he made was charged with his _ki _to a degree she had never thought possible, and he was moving faster than her eye could follow. Raw power poured out of him like a tidal wave, and he was in full control of the flow. The weapons of the demons, fortified by unholy and inhuman powers over millennia of dark and magic-infused crafts only they knew how to master, became as useless as the wooden toy swords of children; none could truly block or counter the energies he produced at will. Zombies became piles of limbs the instant they came in his surprisingly long range. Demons hundreds of years old barely stood half a moment before his assault; with terrifying speed and skill, he cut them down like so many blades of grass. He swung and threw the giant axe and long sword like they weighed nothing; even the bullets and buckshot of his guns became cannonfire in his hands, as each projectile was wrapped and hyper-accelerated by the effects of his _ki_.

The only thing that slowed him down was the accumulation of debris, a mixture of shredded concrete and metal of the surrounding walls and the growing piles of so many headless and limbless corpses before him. This, too, was swept up by his assault.

Shirai had made it to where she had collapsed unchallenged, barely taking his eyes off the sight of his friend as he did. A part of Motoko noticed this, and felt oddly relieved that he had managed to survive. The rest of her, like him, was focused on the reason for their survival.

Within minutes, even the ancient and nearly invincible leaders of the _oni _clan had fallen, their strength preserving their existence a few moments longer than those under them had fared. Keitaro stood alone at the end of what was left of the wide corridor, his already care-worn cloak tattered even further. He turned slowly, and even at a distance Motoko could see the intensity of expression on his face, a visage that was startling to behold. Cold, deadly eyes burned with the unnatural glow of his concentrated _ki_; the gentleness and concern that were so much a part of his natural expression were chillingly absent; deadly, merciless neutrality was left in their place.

It was like something out of a prophetic dream, a living nightmare, though it lasted only a moment longer.

She saw him breath deeply twice, and relax by degrees. The expression vanished, and the Keitaro she had known made a conscious return. The air immediately around his body still glowed and rippled with his _ki_, but with the spiritual sight that had led her the previous night directly to him she could see this physical manifestation was but the inner edge of its true scope and form. Wherever the outer edges were, it was well beyond her sight to tell. Like the waters of an ocean, it stretched everywhere at once and reacted to his will in ripples and torrents with ease.

And yet, even with his power so manifest, Keitaro stood as calm as she'd ever seen him, his will no longer bent on directing the overwhelming power he produced, but on steadying and containing it once more.

As soon as she had seen it, the power began to vanish once more, flowing like a receding wave with no successor to follow it. Only when she glimpsed his face again, its distant features focused with concentration, did she realize how much effort he was devoting to the process itself.

Finally, she understood.

Keitaro Urashima the _kanrinin_, the hapless human male she had until so very recently thoroughly disregarded and despised, was the face he _chose_ to wear, the façade that matched the nature of his heart. Keitaro Urashima the warrior was the mask he had buried, the horror to reveal to his worst enemies only in the greatest of need. It was a face he had locked within himself the way Motoko had sought to lock away all that detracted from being the perfect warrior she strived to be, at the cost of blinding herself to truths she never considered or believed could exist.

Her ideals shattered like the illusions they were in the face of a reality she hoped to never become. The power Keitaro wielded was a force he had to control to a degree Motoko could not hope to match, lest he destroy all he was fighting _for _in the first place. His true strength was not in what he could defeat and destroy, but in what he could build up, care for, and protect.

"So…this is that which…you have shielded us from, Urashima-san," she murmured quietly to no one but herself, "like the keeper…of a great flood..."

Exhausted and stunned beyond her limits of endurance, Motoko finally lost the battle to retain her consciousness and slumped fully to the ground, leaving a startled Shirai to catch her gently midway.

* * *

For now, it was over, and they had all made it through.

'_No, that's a lie,_' Keitaro thought solemnly to himself as he looked at the small fraction of people that had actually survived the battle. '_I was lucky that the ones I know made it through, but how many of them can say the same?_'

He wanted to be happy; after all, his friends were all alive, and many others besides. He wanted to feel proud, that they had kept themselves and each other going, alive, and relatively unharmed through the hell that had been the battle. He wanted to feel relieved, that there would be time enough to recover before more had to be done, that his two best friends were looking out not just for themselves but for those that mattered to him, maybe even to _them_. He wanted to be amused, that the former sources of his pain were coming more to terms with themselves in the face of all that had come against them today, and had done so in the company (and partly because of ) the actions of the only two guys Keitaro could see as being anywhere near his own level of cluelessness.

Who knew; maybe it would turn out okay in the end, after all.

The truth was that he didn't dare to let himself feel these things yet.

How many had there been? Even with the backup of his armor, he had held nothing back. He should be more tired now, he supposed; he was exhausted to be sure, and every bone and muscle in his body felt stiff and sore, but he wasn't worn out just yet.

Not physically, anyway.

He knew there was no hope for those he had slain; a thousand vessels of malice and destruction, horror and hell had fallen in mere minutes before him; he had swept them away, and torn them apart. He had ridden a wave of energy that was entirely his own, a torrent no human being should have been able to control as he had. Who had they been? Were they mostly foe, or friend, before the _oni _had stolen their existences for their own use? Did it matter anymore?

It did, didn't it?

None of them were going home tonight. They had come because of him, because of what he was and what he wielded, and they were dead as a result. Most had been dead before they'd even met, and now even what had remained of them was destroyed.

No matter how he tried, he couldn't focus on any of it. No matter how he felt otherwise, it no longer mattered to him. He was tired in a way he had never experienced, a way he hoped would not last forever.

He never wanted to feel it again if he could help it.

Oddly enough, the mess hall had become the point of regrouping for everyone. Secondary gates had been closed, exits sealed as best as could be managed; the dead were burned and cleared, and now there was maybe a dozen dozen left to fill the space of the hall.

He'd taken off his helmet, his gauntlets, his cloak. When he had the chance, he'd get rid of the rest for a time as well. Mitsune was with him, and he wanted nothing more than to be with her. Haitani and Shirai sat somewhere nearby, their discussions of the battle doing more to lighten the mood than anything else. Keitaro suspected they were arguing in that comic way of theirs just for that purpose, but he let it be. Motoko and Naru had recovered to a degree, and surprisingly sat nearest his pals; if they were in the mood to cause them trouble the way they'd always done for him, they didn't show it. The youngest of his tenants were with Seta and Haruka, who also sat nearby; at least one of them did not look _entirely_ happy, but the mood of the others seemed to dampen the edges of whatever was bothering her. Maybe he could ask her about it later, if he had a chance, but not right now. He hoped _she_ would forgive him that later.

All around him, the talk was a curious mixture of subdued and boisterous as they and everyone else had begun to eat the hard-earned second meal of the day. It was late in the evening, and all were starving. Food boosted everyone's spirits a bit; it reminded them that there was still a world beyond the horrors they had all faced, and that there were people to share with and relate to in their midst.

"Hey, Kei-kun," Mitsune was nudging him quietly, "Why so glum?"

What should he say to her? A part of him wanted to brighten up for her sake, to pull a cheerful air about himself once more.

Instead, he opted for the truth. "How many do you think were killed, Kitsu-chan?" he asked, looking at his hands. "How many would still be here, if I wasn't?"

She looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

He glanced up at her. "Everyone here came because of…this. Because of me. How many do you suppose would still be alive, if I wasn't around? How many are going to have nightmares because of what they did on my account? I…I feel like I don't even know myself anymore." He shivered. "I didn't kill them, and yet…I did, in a way. I fought to protect as many lives as I could, and yet…there were so many, so many that I couldn't. I can't take back the lives, Mitsune. I can't raise the dead the way I can fix a hole in a wall, can I? I've seen what happens when someone does; those people did not deserve for that to happen to their corpses, whatever side they were on. What kind of monster am I, that would bring that upon them?"

"Do not fret upon the choices of others, child of my child," a kind and familiar voice said behind them, "not when so many more yet live because of your own."

He froze. It was a voice he hadn't heard in over a year, but he knew it well. '_It couldn't be…'_

"If any should seek forgiveness from the dead," the voice continued, "it is not you. Each of them chose their own fate, Keitaro, just as you have chosen your own. Had you _not_ made the choices you had, how many would still be here? Far fewer than there are now, if any at all! So cheer up, my boy, and give your Granny a hug!"

Fuck everything. He was going to be happy if it killed him. He was too tired to feel any differently, and knew it.

Without hesitation, Keitaro got up, turned around, and willingly complied with the earnest request of the underground base's leader, Hinata Urashima.

* * *

A.N.: Finally! Triple scoop of going postal, served up hot! Things will wind down a bit finally, and revelations are in store for the future. It won't stay that way forever. I'm going to end it here for now, but more is in the future.

There are some major props of inspiration to make note of in the making of this chapter. First, title courtesy of the late Jim Varney, and it stands as good advice besides. Musical inspiration comes from "Divinity II" (_Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children_), "The Omen of Jenova" (Nekofrog of OCRemix), and possibly others as well. Other inspirations come from stuff I've already covered by now, I'm sure.

Finally, inspiration for the story's title comes from the way Keitaro fights in this chapter, a scene that has been floating in my head in one form or another since the story's inception. Truth be told, I got the idea from Vash the Stampede of _Trigun_, that loveable goofball that follows the principles of Love and Peace, yet stands as one of the most dangerous men alive in his world for a very, _very _good reason. Keitaro's outlook on life, the way I envisioned he might react to having (arguably) a very similar level of power in comparative terms, and the personal dichotomy of roles he can assume when need dictates brought about this portrayal, and the idea for the name of the story itself:

Urashima the Flood.


	16. Ch16: If Stuff Isn't Working Around Here

Disclaimer and Notes: Owning stuff like this is a pain in the ass. Therefore, I do not. That is all.

It surprises me a bit that most of what has happened so far story-wise has occurred in the span of about one week or less, and yet I've been writing this for over a year now! Gah…anyway, let's finish this current (endless!) Thursday with a little less (and maybe, so-to-speak, a little _more_) action. Pine-sol alert! (If you can't figure_ that _one out for yourself, I can't help you…)

Also, after much personal debate, I'm going to keep the Wraith. My plans have been in flux, and my visions of the end battles are starting to take more definite (and definitively awesome) form. Strange factoid: the (quite literal!) _Ghostbusters_-style Proton Packs actually _did _make an appearance, courtesy of Kaolla Su, at least once in the original LH manga. And here I was, worried that using them might be a little too far-fetched…go figure.

* * *

Chapter 16: If Things Aren't Working Around Here, It's Because I'm Laughing So Hard

Deep within a carefully guarded vault in the mountains of Kyoto, several levels beneath a school of legendary renown, a single blade rested quietly in its sheath.

Few knew of this blade's existence, and fewer still understood its terrible power. It was an evil blade, forged by a legendary smith that had been corrupted by ambition and demonic possession. If one could overcome and seal the evil of the blade, it was a weapon of nearly unparalleled power; if, on the other hand, they succumbed to its influence, the blade became an instrument of catastrophic destruction.

Shortly after sunset, the vault was opened by force.

The demonic presence of the blade was partially sentient, and could sense it was no longer alone. It was a rare event for it to even see the light of day, let alone be drawn; very few people had ever possessed the strength to dare touch it willingly, and fewer still could hope to control it. It felt something akin to anticipation, waiting for the next person to ensnare with its siren-like power.

At best, the blade would be challenged; at worst, it would run rampant.

But the one who picked it up was not like any before him. The blade reached out to ensnare the owner's soul, only to discover the owner had none to find.

In its place was a cold malevolence more even powerful than its own.

The blade screamed an unearthly howl as the sheer force of the man's atrocious will overpowered it. The evil within it was torn apart with surgical precision, its power cut off from its will and infused with that of the malevolence holding the weapon itself. The sub-demon bound to the blade was dissected further, its will for chaos and destruction removed and annihilated. What little remained was drained of its energies, leaving a husk that dissolved into oblivion.

When the infamous demon-spirited Hina Blade was finally drawn, it was no longer an evil possessed weapon. The evil it contained was now little more than the raw power it had contained and a purpose without immediate form, a weapon of specific and catastrophic potential.

This blade would serve only one master alone to its full potential, for his purposes only; though no longer inherently possessed by evil, it became something far worse.

It was an indiscriminate weapon of slaughter, a weapon of pure, cold malice incarnate.

Without a hint of emotion, Atrocity turned and left, crushing the scattered and shredded corpses of a dozen _Shinmei-ryu _swordsmen that had stood in his path underfoot With a single swing, the ceilings, floors, and walls before him crumbled and fell into an angular mountain of debris, riddled with the corpses of those unfortunate enough to have been in the path of its blast. With equal disregard for the death and destruction, he climbed the pile as swiftly as a staircase straight to the surface.

* * *

Words failed to describe how furious Essade was at that moment. He cursed the four languages he knew for their failure to provide strong enough euphemisms and expletives to express it.

Physical violence, on the other hand, suited him quite well, and he reveled in its little excesses while his fury lasted.

Many would have described a man like Essade as overlarge, as an ill-tempered swine among greyhounds. Few would dare say this to his face, however; quite aside from being a vastly powerful crime lord, his girth belied his boar-like strength and temper.

Essade's men were expendable as far as he was concerned. If they stayed on his good side and successfully carried out the tasks he assigned, they were treated quite well; even the best among them, however, were subject to his wrath if they failed.

His messenger, who had returned near midnight to explain that the loss of communication with his forces hours earlier was due to their sound defeat, failed him. His head lay cracked open and oozing in the corner somewhere, ripped clean from his body when Essade smashed the back of his hand against his skull with bestial force. His tacticians failed him; one now lay in his commandeered bed with a ceremonial mace embedded in his chest, another was riddled with holes, shot down by Essade's guards as he tried to escape his boss's wrath; the last was locked in the dog cages, joining the unusually vicious pack of mutts Essade kept as pets for dinner—as the main course.

Still livid, Essade managed to regain some control after this had been accomplished. He looked at the discourteous mess the failures had made with contempt. Turning to a now-terrified aide, he ordered, "Have this _filth _cleaned immediately."

As the aide rushed to carry out his order, he pondered his next move. With the substantial force he had amassed now gone, he had to recalculate his strategy. Oh, he could easily gather another, but it would have to be many times its former size to make up for the strength of the _Oni _clan alone, and he was growing impatient. It would take little more than a week to amass such a force again, but the pieces were already in motion against him; vicious and cruel though he was, even Essade knew he had to come out on top in order for it to make any difference.

This was going to require something better. No…_someone_.

A snarling grin came over his features. All he needed now was one hundred pounds of gold and the phone number of his contact with the group…

* * *

Food went a long way toward restoring one's energy reserves, but it didn't help with bone-tired exhaustion. This much, at least, Keitaro was certain on when he shuffled back into his temporary room with Kitsune not far behind.

His mind was reeling, and he failed to care anymore. It had been one hell of a week, and he was positive it would take him a year to process today alone. Today, he had faced down a thousand foes at once and won; he had fought hundreds of others and purposefully avoided killing any of them, yet came out on top in the end.

He had faced down his worst fears, and had prevented them from coming true. And he'd learned from his own grandmother—Granny Hina, the very woman that had placed _him _of all people in charge of the Hinata-Sou and given him responsibility for its maintenance—so much more of what was going on. He learned about the international crime lord, Garhem Essade, and the dealings he had with the _Oni_; he was the one responsible for the battle, and remained their primary enemy in terms of sheer force. The _Oni _clan's re-emergence had been a deciding factor, for its re-emergence threatened the world if it wasn't stopped, and even the practitioners of _Shinmei-ryu _would not be enough. A union of human, demon, and sub-demon forces would inevitably take an unprepared world by fatal surprise, and the conflict could easily surpass all that had originally transpired if they were not defeated decisively as they had been today. Hina herself had left her mostly public life and affairs over the past year to actively work against Essade and his allies in secret.

This, too, was why she had left the inn under his care; she had known what he was capable of, what he was destined to do. Hina had many powerful allies, most of whom Keitaro already knew. Their task was to prepare, to fight, to make victory possible; _keeping _those allies alive in the process was a task that fell squarely on _his _shoulders.

Of all of them, only he could truly wield the ancient gear he bore and use it to its fullest, at least without becoming a worse danger himself. Essade would be far worse with such devices in his possession, but there were even worse things than him in the world as well.

Tomorrow, there would be more to do, but the hell that was today was finally over. Though more worries would come in the morning, he could temporarily relax. Hina had assured him that the battle, for now at least, was over. He had seen everyone he knew and cared about, and they were all relatively okay.

'_Bullshit,_' he called on himself, frowning. '_Sure, they're all alive, but okay? My two best friends in the world had to fight and kill people they had nothing to do with, for my sake. My tenants are scared and exhausted. Motoko was barely standing on her own after dinner and her sister wasn't much better off. Naru was okay physically, but her eyes looked so haunted...even Su seemed a little quieter for once. And Kitsune?_'

Kitsune sat on the bed as he rested up against the wall. Both of them were dirty, tired, and lost in thought now. Her eyes, he noticed, were open more than they normally were, but they weren't gleaming; the look in them was unsteady at best, as though the day's events were steadily playing within their depths. She rummaged in her bag, pulling out the second bottle of _sake _she had brought almost automatically. When she went to open it, though, she hesitated, staring at the reflective surface of the glass without really focusing on it. Slowly, her arm lowered, the bottle slipping lower and lower until it touched the ground. She let it go, and it tumbled with a gentle clink on the hard ground, rolling away from her slowly. "Better save it, I think," she mumbled to herself. "Never thought I wouldn't be in the mood for it, but…" She trailed off into silence, staring at her shaking hands. "It's just...the same stuff as the other day, you know? It wouldn't help…not today."

Keitaro's heart wrenched in his chest. Sure, he knew logically that she had volunteered for this, at least in principle, the same as he had, but that held no comfort; she had been with him the entire way, had seen the same horrors he had, gone through the same nagging doubt and worry that tore him fifty ways from center the entire time. When he'd gone berserk against the last horde, she had watched, had shot stragglers to keep them from getting near their friends. She was here because of him, just as he was here because of them.

He didn't know if he would be able to fully cope, but he knew he had seen enough, been through enough pain to survive it all. Could he say the same about her? Would he dare to even try? Motoko would cope, in time; she was a warrior already, and strong enough to find a way. Naru had seen far less, though what she _had _seen and done would affect her nonetheless. But she'd bounce back eventually; you couldn't ever quell a spirit that strong for long. Just _how _she would come back, even he didn't know; Naru was as unpredictable as ever.

But Mitsune's stresses were accumulating at an alarming rate. In the course of half a dozen days, her world had been turned upside down and inside out because of him. She had seen and experienced horrors she had never bargained for, had illusions shattered that her own clever mind had missed, and had started what was turning out to be the most dangerous relationship he could ever imagine her having. She had been assaulted, shot, torn from her more or less predictable and safe world, and forced to experience the bitter and hellish reality of war, the stuff that gave people a lifetime of waking nightmares without respite.

She was not meant for this. She wasn't innocent in the worldly sense, but there were levels of innocence she should never have lost, should never have even known existed, that she had. Motoko would have lost them by eventually, as a willing and able-bodied warrior; Su would retain some measure of them by her own nature, and Naru would confront or avoid what she could not handle head-on and come to her own terms with it. He'd lost most of this kind of innocence in other's defense, and had long ago come to terms with realities he didn't want to have to know, but did. Mitsune, however, had done nothing more to deserve such loss than indulging her own natural curiosity; it was as though she had gone to look up something at a library, and found herself trapped in a natural disaster instead. Had she stayed home that day, she would be watching it on the news, not living—or dying—in it.

His mind forcefully snapped itself away from its current track. His method of coping had always been to focus on others before himself, a habit that had ultimately put _him _in the very same situation. Though he felt incredible guilt for putting them all in the same situation, he knew better than to wallow in it. If he stayed alive, stayed sane long enough, he could still do _something _to help. Right now, though, his skin was crawling with the feeling of the slowly solidifying filth that coated his armor; he couldn't even offer Mitsune a hug in good conscience in such a state. "I…think I need a shower," he muttered, forcing himself back to his feet slowly.

"Yeah, so do I," she muttered back, the ghost of a smile and a chuckle breaking her increasingly distant stare for just a brief moment.

As he gathered the only clean clothes he had left, he missed the sudden return of a slight gleam in his girlfriend's eye. Her gaze fell on his back as he left; as it did, an idea broke through her current gloom that gradually caused the fleeting smile to return and transform itself into a grin.

Kitsune might never have been meant to experience the horrors of the days behind her, but a Fox like her was always clever enough to find a way to deal with anything she set her mind to.

Keitaro, oblivious to his girlfriend's current train of thought, found himself setting his clothes on the bench of the very same shower stall Mitsune had changed in the night before. Perhaps because of the unusual nature of the underground fortress, the bathrooms were mostly communal, relatively small, and unisex; each stall had its own toilet, sink, and double-curtained shower and changing station in the back. He was alone, he realized; even though it was still early in the evening, his was the only stall in use.

The sooner he could get the blood and stench off of his armor, and off of himself, the better off he would be.

He didn't even bother to strip the ancient protective suit off before getting into the stall; though he'd left the cloak behind to launder some other time, the armor would never fit in a washing machine without breaking it—or breaking the machine, for that matter. For the first five minutes, he let the water hammer its entire surface, the scales and plates proving themselves to be waterproof as he did. Steam filled the narrow stall, making it hard to see, but he didn't care. He found himself marveling at the sensation of feeling both soaking wet and bone dry at once as the mixed signals of his own skin and the _ki_-charged living biometal competed in his brain. Before long, the surface had shed the grime and gory remnants of the day's battle, and he briefly left the shower to shed the pieces into a pile on the bench.

Free from the thing's influence, he quickly began to feel the full extent of his exhaustion wash over him as he returned to soak under the generous stream of hot water. Everything was sore and cramping; his shoulders registered the strain of the weights they had borne, and his entire body throbbed painfully from the severe level of _ki _he had made it produce, handle, and continuously use in the course of one day. Only now did he understand why it had been so important for him to fully rest before today; had he been the least bit tired at the outset, he would have been quite literally dead on his feet at this point.

He was barely standing as it was, even then. Soon, the effort necessary to remain standing became too great to maintain. He let his legs slowly buckle, lowering himself to the floor and kneeling heavily into one leg as he went. Resting his head on his knee and loosely holding the leg with his arms, he felt himself slipping in and out of consciousness under the shower's steady, calming flow.

In his half-aware state, he didn't really notice the door of the communal bathroom quietly opening or the soft shuffle of bare feet toward his stall. The door was shut and secured by a simple latch from the inside, but the newcomer used a bent piece of stiff wire to quietly release it from the other side. Once past the barrier, the wire was used to quietly re-tie the latch more securely from the inside. Careful hands quietly slipped past the first curtain leading to the changing section of the stall, their owner disrobing in silence.

As she peeked past the final curtain, she saw him kneeling on the ground, his back to her and his head drooping over his knee. Small bruises dotted his form, evidence of the blows he'd taken through his armor from errant bullets and blows, but he had escaped with no lasting injuries that she could see. In the muted light of the bath, she could still make out the lines of his older scars, which were pink and white from the heat of the water; the shadows made the tense, heavily knotted muscles in his back and shoulders stand out even more than usual.

At any other time, he would have jumped out of his own skin when he felt a pair of hands contact his shoulders and smoothly slide their way down the length of his arms, but the combination of exhaustion and recent memory dulled his reflex to the smallest of surprised twinges. Soft, wet skin slid around him as the owner of said hands nuzzled into him.

"K-Kitsune?" he asked quietly, surprise evident in his voice.

"Hmmn?" Kitsune replied into his neck, her head rested on his shoulder. He glanced over to see a peaceful, content expression on her face, her eyes lightly shut and her lips pressing forward briefly to place a kiss on his cheek. "Thought you might like some company, Kei-kun," she said quietly into his ear.

A million questions flashed through his brain, only to vanish in smoke before he could articulate any of them. The sight of her there, the sensation of her bare flesh pressed against his, the very _thought _of having her willingly join him in the shower like this was enough to melt away his worries and doubts. In their place, he felt an inexplicable joy and contentment in her presence, a burning desire for her to remain there with him as long as possible.

He found himself giving her one of his rare, completely genuine and heartfelt smiles. He slowly twisted in her embrace to draw her into his own, his body somehow forgetting much of the tiredness that had threatened to overwhelm it moments earlier. The time where his presence in a bathing area any time a female was occupying the same space meant instant pain and forced flight seemed like a distant memory now; though he had never dreamed it could be possible, here he was. Instead of flying limbs and indignant battle cries, he felt and exchanged a wordless conversation of hands and lips and water, the slick sliding of flesh on flesh as fingers danced and kneaded over tired muscles and aching limbs. There was no pain in this; quite the opposite in fact. Neither was in a hurry to finish the experience anytime soon; one told the other where it hurt, where to reach with the soap, what knotted muscles need attention and which areas liked it the best, and the other responded in kind, caring for the first even as they did the same.

Both he and Mitsune lost track of time in their endeavors, neither having reason to care about it. They felt the closeness of this newfound intimacy they were sharing and little else; in the breadth of one encounter, they wordlessly reaffirmed one another in a way no one else could do for them but one another. When they both emerged over an hour later, Keitaro caught a glimpse of their reflections in the bathroom mirror; he was surprised to see how peaceful they both seemed, one arm wrapped around each other's shoulders and the freshly scrubbed skin of their faces free of the burdens the day had heaped upon them. He felt himself smile as he left with her, both carrying the pieces of his armor in their free hands as they went.

* * *

"You really think we should?" Haruka asked.

"Honestly? No. I think we should take about a week off after today. But we all know that that's not gonna happen anytime soon, so this is the next best thing. We aren't hanging out past noon anyway, and we've still got a crime lord, an inhumane walking tank, and who knows what else to deal with when we get back. Everyone's been going nonstop all day; let 'em rest while they still can."

"He's right, my dear," Hina agreed, nodding toward Seta. "We have dealt them a mighty blow today; tonight, we must rest, so that our next stroke will fall all the heavier."

Haruka sighed. "If you say so. I still don't like the idea of sleeping wide open like this, but I guess we don't have much of a choice." She leaned forward and flicked a small switch on the control panel, and spoke directly into a small, flat microphone suspended above it.

"_Attention all personnel, this is Commander Haruka speaking: due to the recent engagement with the enemy, there will be a mandatory extension to normal resting hours tonight of two hours. All alarms will automatically reset to go off at 0900 hours. Breakfast will be served at 0930, and evac will commence at noon. Good work today, people, rest up while you can. Haruka out."_

* * *

It had been a very long time since Tsuruko had fought so hard for so long. As she finished directing the night crew in re-securing the base as best as they could, she made her way back to her own quarters to rest.

As a warrior and commander, she had compelled herself to ensure the safety of as many lives as possible, including those of the surviving forces on base; if anything went wrong and someone was ambushed and killed in the night because of her own negligence and desire for rest, she could never face them in the afterlife.

As a human being, though, she knew she had to take time to herself to recuperate eventually, lest the strain overwhelm her as it had her younger sister.

Still carrying herself with a measure of her normal, steady grace the entire way, she steadily became more aware of just how tired she was; even so, her will was as adamant as ever, and she didn't show her fatigue just yet. No, that could wait a few moments longer; there was, after all, just one person in her life she truly felt comfortable sharing her weaknesses and feelings with openly, and he was waiting for her—if she was lucky.

She didn't have long to worry, though. As she rounded a final corner, the door to her quarters came into view. Leaning against the frame casually was a man in Guardian's gear, propped at a high angle by a pair of lanky legs. To the undiscerning eye, he was just another member of the base's crew. He was on the taller side but not the type that seemed inherently dangerous or tough, though Tsuruko knew better. To her relief, he was relaxed and relatively unhurt, bearing only a few scratches in testament to the day's battles.

Secretly, Tsuruko congratulated herself for putting him on the upper-level forces; from what she had seen and heard, they'd had an easier (and less dangerous) time overall, and no major confrontations with undead or supernatural hordes. It wasn't that she doubted his ability so much as appreciated the strength of her foes; if he had been with her instead, there was a good chance he would have been killed…or worse. For him, she could not deny that protective instinct; a part of her wished she had done the same for her sister, but thanks to the efforts of young Urashima and his friend Motoko had survived the ordeal as well.

'_It is a shame Urashima-san is already spoken for,_' Tsuruko mused to herself. '_Motoko may yet realize what she misses in her solid rejection of males..._'

For the moment, however, Tsuruko decided to put such musings aside. When the man at her doorway spotted her, she could see the relief in his face as clearly as his amusement. "They finally give you the night off, huh?" he teased her lightly, a casual grin overtaking his expression.

"For the moment, yes," she confirmed, sliding her form closer to his until they were barely a foot apart.

"Good thing, that. Wouldn't want my lovely Commander losing her beauty sleep any more than she has to," he added.

She nodded, her expression becoming more serious and distant. "Hopefully, there will be time enough to lick our collective wounds clean before we must face receiving any more."

"Hmm. Speaking of which," he caught her attention and gaze, "I seem to remember saying you could go gallivanting off fighting the forces of evil with the Ultra-Long Ancient Stabby-Sword Art of Wanton Doom _only _if you took care of yourself, Tsu-chan."

"And so I have. I live, do I not?" she retorted with faux indignation.

"You won't if you let all those get infected, love." He looked pointedly at the state of her attire. She glanced at herself critically and frowned, noticing the many cuts and scrapes that crisscrossed her limbs and torso everywhere that her clothing and armor had given way. Her hands were starting to blister as well, in spite of the thick calluses they had developed from years of training with the blade.

"Since when did you become such an observant healer?" she asked in a more subdued tone.

"Since I fell in love with someone that seems to always need one." He smirked at the slight pout she gave him. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up, shall we?"

She held her expression only a moment longer, but couldn't repress the warm smile that took its place. "Only if you insist, my love," she finally relented, following her husband into her—and his—quarters.

Only when the door had been closed and locked did Tsuruko visibly relax. In the corner on a makeshift perch rested her pet crane, Shippu; she gave the bird a gentle stroke on the neck in greeting as she passed. As she went to sit and remove her weapons and equipment, her husband went to the room's small closet to retrieve her traveling medical kit.

She winced slightly as she removed the sleeves of her _gi_, feeling the points where the armor had been penetrated tug back slightly as the inner material stuck to the dried blood around each wound. "I understand Haruka's insistence on wearing this armor, but it is of little help against blades," she remarked.

"Better to deal with the shortcomings of the Kevlar than to risk being riddled with bullets," he pointed out as he began cleaning the freshly exposed wounds.

"That is true," she agreed. "but they are not my first choice for extended swordplay—mmph!" She bit down a hiss of pain as the cleaning solution contacted one of her cuts. "Well? How bad are they?"

"These don't look too bad. This one's a little deep, though. Let's get these wrapped up…"

For the next ten minutes, they went over her injuries one by one. Fleetingly, she found herself envying the likes of Keitaro and Seta, both of whom had achieved significant mastery of the difficult _ki _healing techniques. Even among the _Shinmei-ryu_, such skills were incredibly rare, often used by only the best of their healers in the greatest of need. Injury ultimately placed limits on a warrior's capabilities, inhibiting their ability to function at their full potential. To recover from injury in the shortest time possible meant everything when one's skills were needed; as it was, it would take her days to mend, even if the wounds themselves amounted to little more than minor annoyances.

Minor annoyances that _really _stung, but nothing too bad.

She sighed. "I always end up feeling like an Egyptian mummy after this," she remarked wistfully, eyeing the expert job her husband had done of wrapping her wounds. "I will never understand how you manage to make them so secure without being too tight."

He chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around her bare shoulders and placing a kiss on her cheek. "Lots of practice, Tsu-chan."

She smiled warmly, and drew him into a kiss of her own. Though the bandages were to hold as securely as ever throughout the night, all remaining pretense—and articles of clothing—between them quickly fell away in the face of their rising, yearning passion.

* * *

Making sound judgments about anything or anyone required an open mind, not just one's own inflexible principles.

That was the lesson Motoko took away from the hellish day she had endured. Every thought she now had in her mind, she found herself questioning and examining more thoroughly than ever before. Who was she now? Was she the same Motoko, the dauntless and self-assured warrior that could confront her own problems head-on and rise above them? Was she still the young woman who held such ironclad convictions about the world around her?

Or was she just a fool that lived her own lies to fill the many shadowy voids in the core of her own being, so as to ignore the fact that they were there?

Her thought process was now radically different from before, and it unsettled her to no end. She had never before questioned her own motivations and reasoning behind her actions; even to herself, she had leaned on the principles and beliefs she had held for support, for self-reassurance in the face of her own day-to-day life. So long as she held rigidly to them, she could remain centered and confident in a chaotic environment. She drove men away at the edge of her blade based on her conviction that they were inherently perverse and contemptible; she followed her own definition of her family's code of honor to the letter, and had cut off her own ability to see beyond the scope of their tenets and rules for all but the barest few aspects of her life.

In short, she had willingly blinded herself to the forest for her focus on the trees.

She closed her eyes in thought. How strange it was to turn inward, to question what she had accepted as immutable fact, only to find to her own surprise that her principles had been a house of cards waiting to fall! Above all, she had believed she was, or strived to be, entirely self-sufficient in her ways; she was a warrior of the ancient and powerful _Shinmei-ryu _school, relying only on her own skill and honor. Yet today, she learned that neither was enough on its own; she would be dead a dozen times over, including by her own hand, had not someone _else _prevented it from happening.

Even now, she wouldn't even have the strength to move on her own at the moment without some means of support.

As confusing and dizzying as the shift in her perspective was, there was something…comforting in what it revealed. She had seen aspects of the people she thought she had known, or at least had known about, that she had never anticipated. She had seen her sister, so powerful and in control at all times actually break down and shed a few tears when she found out that Motoko was alive and well. She had seen men and women fighting to the death for the sake of others, for the sake of a man most hadn't met or known but had believed in anyway.

She had seen a male she had automatically written off in her mind as just another contemptible, perverted fool rise to her defense when she was ready to collapse, nearly losing his own life to ensure she had a chance to keep hers. She'd seen qualities she never thought any male could possess emerge in him just as they had in his friend Keitaro under the extremes of their situation, like the true temper of a sword forged in fire.

And she was now seeing herself in a light she had never considered possible. She no longer knew herself, and it unsettled her, but she was slowly learning about the parts of her she had kept buried for as long as she could remember. She had been merely content with her illusions, but their shattering awakened a desire for something more real, tangible, and fulfilling than they had been. She was tired, too damn tired to think or care about anything anymore, and yet…a part of her refused to rest until she knew more.

Maybe that was why she accepted Shirai's help moments ago, when she found that she was still too unsteady to trust her own legs to guide her back to her room. She leaned more heavily than she cared to admit on his relatively low shoulders, managing through stubborn will to keep herself moving forward while he bore about half her weight. Oh, she knew his reputation well enough from Naru and from her own experience, but to bridge the divides she had maintained for herself she found herself…what, exactly? Overlooking it a bit? Trusting the person, whose actions she herself had witnessed and appreciated, more than the reputation itself? Failing to react as she once thought she should so quickly, whether because of exhaustion or newfound unwillingness? Whatever the reason, she was allowing herself to do what had once been unthinkable: consciously _choosing _to rely on another person—a _male_, for that matter—for something she could not attain for herself.

Where was the voice of that part of her that objected to the very _thought _of acting this way? Why was its insistence that Shirai was only _too _eager to "help" her, that she was a fool to let so much get by her defenses in her weakened state, now so weak? She felt oddly empowered by her own freedom from herself, as though her past assumptions had been fetters and blindfolds rather than the pillars she had relied on.

Maybe someday, she would be able to admit actually _enjoying _having someone there to rely on. For now, she simply attributed the strange warmth she felt to a lessening of her own reflexive fear rather than anything else.

Shirai, for his part, wasn't about to push it. After seeing the things Motoko could do with a sword all day, he knew better than to piss the young kendoist off.

Not far behind them, Naru walked in uncharacteristic silence. It was odd, especially for her; though her brain had been overwhelmed by the many conflicting and extreme thoughts and emotions of the day, it had been relatively quiet in her own mind after the incident in the zombie-filled corridor hours earlier.

She felt numb with mute horror. Perhaps normally, she would have felt horrified at standing face to face with such a terrible and demonic force as that, but there was no terror or revulsion in those few minutes. No, that had been a span filled with blinding cold rage, a time where everything wrong in her mind poured itself into a single emotion with a viable and precise target. It had fueled her to heft a weapon so large that she would never have been able to lift, let alone use; it had poured out in the form of a stream of lead, holding her steady as thousands of rounds annihilated everything before her.

And when it was over, nothing filled the emptiness in its wake save that sense of horror and disgust.

Logically, Naru knew that they had been nothing but corpses and evil creatures, but logic was not her strongest point in life. She had set a monster on monsters, a fury to match the fury she felt, and it had left nothing but chaos, destruction, and gore in its wake. The problem was that she didn't know for sure what that monster really was.

_Who _it was might be more accurate.

For the first time, her own anger disgusted her. It made her feel disgusting, like a land mine waiting for some poor damn fool to walk over it so it could violently remove their leg. She had hauled a weapon down to a battlefield she had no business on, because she was angry. She had unleashed horrific carnage because some undead freak had pulled her hair. Oh, sure, it was "necessary" that they all die—again—but did that really justify the way she did it? The _reason _she did it?

If they'd been living human beings, would she have done the same? Was she capable of something like that?

She rubbed her temples in frustration. Nothing made sense anymore. The man that she could never admit she had her eye on from day one was officially beyond her reach, taken by none other than her best friend. She had driven him away, never letting him get close enough in spite of his (and, much as she hated to admit, her own) desire to the contrary. What had she been thinking? Did she really believe something like this wouldn't happen, that he'd stay in limbo like that forever while _she _got past her own misgivings? She couldn't even blame it on him anymore; she had no one to blame but herself.

She should have been angry about this. She _was _angry about this; several hundred shredded corpses now lay in testament to that.

Now, she was just sad, disgusted with herself, and lonelier than ever.

To her side, Haitani loped along, keeping pace with her in as casual a manner as he could manage. Earlier, he had felt distinctly terrified by the show of force Narusegawa had displayed, but that terror had quickly slipped away as he observed her further. Oh, sure, he was getting a better idea now about what Keitaro had meant about her, and had a renewed sense of respect for all the poor guy had willingly put himself through on her behalf, but now…

A part of him felt sorry for her, too.

Haitani normally didn't delve too deeply into complicated matters like this, but even he had a contemplative side on occasion. He could be pretty sure of what he observed, enough to puzzle it out on his own; right now, he was seeing someone that had annihilated a horde almost single-handedly withdraw into herself, and quite frankly that worried him. Naru had been a confident, strong-willed girl as long as he had known her, as popular and self-reliant as she was pretty. It was like watching an active volcano annihilate everything in a two-mile radius, only to suddenly go completely dormant halfway through. It was like she was no longer herself, like she had given up. He'd been planning on trying to get to know her better, on having to deal with the repercussions of her tenacious ferocity in his own way in order to do so. Sure, it might kill him, but where was the fun in life if you didn't take a few chances and risks along the way?

But now…something was different, and it was awakening a protective instinct he didn't know he had within him.

"Some day we've all had, huh?" he tried in a calm and even tone, hoping to get a response from her.

Naru looked up, as though registering where she was for the first time. The brief surprise fell off into a contemplative look as she regarded him a moment, before nodding. "Yeah…some day."

"You gonna be all right?" he asked.

"What's it to you?" she retorted without much spirit.

He shrugged. "You're a friend of my friends, and maybe a friend of mine as well. Either way, I still want to make sure you're okay."

She snorted noncommittally, looking forward again. "What makes you think I'm not?"

"Same thing that makes me think nobody is at the moment."

"Oh." She frowned, glancing around at the few people nearby furtively. He had a point, it seemed; everywhere she looked, she could see the exhaustion and mental weariness on people's faces and in their movements. Even Motoko, strong as she was, seemed drained and…different, somehow. "I…guess I can see what you mean."

For a moment, silence stretched between them again. Finally, Haitani added, "Just don't go thinking you're alone in all this; I've got a friend that did that, and look at where it's gotten him."

She glanced at him curiously. "You mean Keitaro?"

Haitani nodded. "Yup. Dude would suffer in silence to the end of his strength if we let him. Thing is, he had more of a choice in the matter, because he could handle a lot more than most people could; but even he can't get away with that forever. Shirai and I wouldn't let him, for one."

She stopped, a small spark of indignation returning to her voice. "What's that got to do with me? I can take care of myself."

Haitani paused, and turned to meet her gaze. "I'm sure you can, Naru. Doesn't mean you have to, or that you should. If you need or even want some help with anything, don't hesitate to ask. I, for one, will. Good night."

With that, Haitani turned and walked away, leaving Naru to ponder his statements in silence.

* * *

At about eight-ten in the morning, Keitaro's eyes fluttered open. The room was dark, save for the soft azure glow of the still-on portable monitor set up on its tripod stilts in the corner. He was still lying in the same position as he had assumed the night before, half-propped up against the corner with a few pillows for support. To his mild amusement, Kitsune was snuggled against and around him like a warm weighted blanket. Both were covered by the somewhat meager sheets.

The last thing he could remember from the night before was curling up with her in much the same position, watching most of three or four episodes of _Trigun…_and then nothing after that. '_I guess we must've drifted off before it finished,_' he mused to himself, remembering just how he had ended up with it in the first place…

_When they had reached the door, they immediately noted something was different. "What's this?" Mitsune asked, examining the small box that had been placed just beneath the doorknob._

"_I dunno," Keitaro replied, bending over to examine it. There was a note on top and his eyes widened when he began reading its contents aloud. "To my favorite grandson: inside is a gift I have been meaning to give you since the beginning of your tenure at the inn, but have been unable to for what are now likely obvious reasons. I want you to know that I am very proud of you; it is a rare person that has a heart as pure as yours. May this help encourage you as you told me it once did, and give you two lovebirds something to enjoy when you're not ma—what?" He was suddenly blushing furiously. _

"_What 'what'? What's it say?" Kitsune asked curiously._

"_Ah, nothing, nothing," he responded, a little too quickly._

"_Lemme see!" She snatched the note away before he could stop her and read the final line silently. Her eyes widened, and her cheeks flared as well. "Eeep! How did she…?" _

"_It doesn't matter," Keitaro groaned. "You can't slip anything past Granny Hina, it's just not possible. She's worse than you when it comes to teasing, too."_

_Kitsune slapped her forehead in dismay. "Yeah, I remember that, too. We're doomed, aren't we?"_

_He chuckled. "Afraid so. Still, I wonder what's in the box..."_

_Bringing the small (but somewhat heavy) box into their room, he set about opening it on the bed. For a moment, he stared at the contents in disbelief; then, he began to grin widely. "Ohoho, man, this is awesome!" he excitedly remarked._

"_What is it?"_

"_Check it out!"_

_Inside the box was a small DVD player, a portable flat-screen monitor with a sturdy but relatively small tripod, and a sturdy carrying case to hold them. The front of the case had two circular sections on the side made of a stiff, fabric-coated material; inside one of them were a small number of discs, the titles of which he immediately recognized. "This is…these are my favorite…!"_

"_Oh, wow, I haven't seen this in eons!" Mitsune gasped when she read one of the titles. "Heh, now I know what she meant."_

"_Yeah…he's kind of half the inspiration for how I live, now that I think about it." He grinned again. "Shall we watch it?"_

"_Sure! You set that up, and I'll rearrange us a seat on the bed!"_

He almost felt guilty about leaving his brand new toy on all night long. Almost.

At any rate, much of the previous night's soreness and exhaustion was long gone. A quick glance at the clock revealed how long they had been sleeping; it took a moment for his still semi-conscious mind to remember Haruka's announcement from the previous night. When he finally made the connection, he realized there was a good forty five minutes until they had to officially get up. The thought was oddly comforting, as staying here like this with Mitsune in the hazy and peaceful state between sleep and full consciousness was nothing short of heaven.

Never in his life had he felt so comfortable. The feeling had nothing to do with the cramped quarters, the stiff mattress, the sterile filtered air, but rather with the company. A month ago, he could have assumed an identical position in his own, familiar room, in the midst of what few comforts his life afforded him, and been too terrified to appreciate any of it if he had awoken to find himself in the same bed as one of his tenants. Now, in the least comfortable circumstances imaginable, the same occurrence brought him more comfort than anything he had ever experienced.

He gazed down at his girlfriend's sleeping face, struck by how peaceful she looked. Though she was well known for spending much of her time with her eyes almost fully closed, seeing her asleep was something entirely new and different. Her breathing was even, her lips softly curled in the slightest hint of a smile. Her head rose and fell gently with every breath he took; as he gently brushed a few stray strands of her light-colored hair behind her ear, she seemed to nuzzle ever so slightly closer to him automatically.

How he ever came to be this lucky, he would never understand. The torrent of events and circumstances defied explanation and reason, and he was just along for the ride. But like the free-flowing energies of his _ki_, he would follow that flow if it meant he could be with this mischievous angel in his arms that much longer.

After a few minutes, her breathing changed subtly, and her hold on him grew distinctly tighter. "Izzit mornin' yet?" she mumbled sleepily as she slowly came awake with a yawn.

He smiled and nodded, meeting her bleary-looking gaze as she cast it in his direction. "Yeah, but it's only about quarter past eight or so. We don't have to get up until nine."

"That's good," she remarked. Glancing around the room, she noted the odd light and snickered slightly when she found the source. "Boy, we must've been pretty tired last night."

He chuckled. "I know what you mean. Still, nothing like a good night's rest to fix bone-tired exhaustion, right?"

She smiled. "So says the same guy that would work himself to death if you let him?"

He smirked a little sheepishly. "Well…can't say I'm exactly inexperienced with the overall process, can I?"

"Nope!" She nestled herself into him a little more, listening to the deep, soft rush of air in and out of his chest as he breathed slowly and comfortably beneath her. Mentally, at least, she could see herself completely content with staying where she was with him, just like this, for as long as she could possibly get away with.

Physically, however, she was still thinking about the earlier half of their night, and the sheer intimacy it had entailed. There was something about being that close to him, about caring for his needs as he cared for hers, that awakened more than her mind and her emotions just now. She had always been one to be in tune with her own physical desires, and was often able to direct them and control them by her own will; yet as the heat in her chest began to roar to life, she began to realize that control was simply no longer an option.

She'd be annoyed by how great of an effect he was having on her, but she was too busy enjoying it to care.

"So," she asked, the tone of her voice changing to become ever so subtly seductive as she began to slowly ease herself more fully against him, "I take it you're awake now, right?"

He blinked hard, meeting her gaze with only half-guarded curiosity. "Uh…I think so," he offered, his brain briefly going on hold as the strange mix of old and new instinctual reactions fought briefly and fiercely within him as he caught the growing twinkle in her eyes.

As if sensing his hesitation, Mitsune didn't wait for him to advance. Closing the small distance between them, she let her lips do the talking for her in a language that used no words yet remained clear as a bell.

The impasse in Keitaro's brain crumbled and disappeared almost instantly, and the fiery and feral beast that was his passion for her rose in a wave to meet hers. Unlike the previous night, neither was really tired or sore and both were restless and edgy with a need neither had been able to address without rest. The delay had only heightened the desire, fueling it with emotional and physical intimacy without a means of release…until just then.

He was awake now. Oh, _hell _yes, he was.

The moment their locked lips broke, the floodgates began to open in earnest. The scant clothing they still wore was flying off with incredible speed, their physical ministrations all but rippling around the fabric as it was forced to cross between them. Mitsune was boiling with heat, and still he felt even hotter to her skin. Everywhere they touched sent electric tingles coursing through her body so intense that she swore her skin was humming. The rational part of her mind was swiftly losing control, and she was rapidly losing the will to follow it; somehow, she managed to regain it for a moment, and she managed to gasp, "W-wait! I…unnh! I wanna try something, K-Kei-kun…"

Distracted and slightly confused, Keitaro managed to break away, breathing hard. "Wha…?"

"Stay there, and sit back slightly." she told him, seizing the opportunity to force herself into motion as he watched her curiously. A quick glance at her open bag revealed exactly what she was looking for, and she grinned impishly. With one hand, she deliberately found the monitor's remote control and pointed it at the glowing screen; with one long leg, she reached into the bag to grab the item she had spotted between her toes, her gaze held on his the entire way.

As Keitaro watched his girlfriend's leg rise once more, he saw her hit a button on the remote, plunging the room into complete darkness. His breath hitched slightly in surprise, as he had been enjoying the view; however, the inability to see her only raised his anticipation.

The lightest touch of her fingers traveling up his thighs made the fire in his loins build even higher; all at once, he felt her weight pressing against their insides, and a hot breeze of breath so close to his throbbing excitement that it nearly made him gasp.

Something warm, wet, and slightly rough touched its base and slowly traveled to its tip, and he gasped anyway. "K-Kitsu-chan…!" he uttered, groaning, as the sensation suddenly enveloped him completely.

He couldn't see what she was doing to him, and didn't really need to. The sensation alone was driving him insane with pleasure. He heard a rustle of plastic near the other end of the bed, but didn't register it at first; he was more intently focused on the humming moan in her throat. Moments later, the sensation disappeared, and he almost groaned in frustration before he felt her legs and hips swiveling forward between his own. '_What is she doing? Oh…oh, wow…oh, that's clever…_' he though, as something flat and curved pressed against him, wrapping and pulling a rubbery sheath over his length with surprising skill.

Suddenly, he felt her on top of him, and he kissed her fiercely as he renewed his earlier ministrations with increased fervor. "Take me," he heard her plead into his mouth, and he held back no longer, meeting her arching hips and embedding himself in the divine, wet furnace between them.

Together they writhed and drove into each other, unbridled and wild. He felt her nipples grazing the skin of his chest as she swayed on top of him, groaning and mumbling incoherently. Their bodies became slick as ice and hot as embers, the sensations between them building ever higher. His hands moved as much as his hips, blindly finding and caressing every exquisite part of her he could reach. At last, at the peak of their limits and slick with their mingling sweat and her juices, one of his fingers pressed at the tip of their junction while another found its way down her spine into the crevice of her ass, pressing against the opening it found; she cried out and spasmed around him, drawing him over the edge and causing his blackened vision to erupt with light and color as he erupted again and again.

* * *

A.N.: Well, this was a fun chapter to write! The one thing I enjoy in the writing process the most is getting into the character's heads. When I set out to write this, I was fascinated by how a group of personalities like this could end up interacting the way they did as opposed to the way they are now. Major events can be as extreme as war, as subtle as a single well-placed comment; how we react to them determines what will happen next. A few chapters back, a reviewer (**pak40 **I believe) made an interesting suggestion that proves this point. He suggested I try to hook up the Dimwitted Duo with the Pervert Patrol (in essence, Haitani and Shirai with Naru and Motoko), since Keitaro and Mitsune our spoken for each other in the storyline. Normally, in a straight-up storyline based on Love Hina, I would have thought such a thing to be nigh on impossible; in _this _one, however, things are different. When I really got to thinking about it, I realized that _none _of the characters were going to come away from the events I was putting them through unchanged; war, especially, can do that to people.

I began to realize that, contrary to being out of character, having two such relationships start to develop would actually make a lot more sense. Both girls are being confronted with aspects of themselves that neither would think about the same way otherwise, in a manner that essentially gets it through their heads where they've been going wrong and more importantly _why_. At the same time, Keitaro's pals are being faced with something _they _aren't used to, and responding in their own ways to it. In the process, they are learning a few things about themselves they might not have otherwise. By putting them all through the fire together, there is an opportunity to show that there is, or at least _can be_, more to each of them than normally meets the eye. Expect more developments on these fronts as we go along.

Inspirations abound in this chapter. The title is a direct quote from Durandal in the original _Marathon _game (get it at source DOT bungie DOT org, for free; it's well worth it!). Musically, check _Cowboy Bebop OST 4: Future Blues _for the tracks "No Reply" and "Gotta Knock a Little Harder", both of which have been running themes as I've written this and other chapters in spirit. As noted in the storyline, I'd like to give a shout-out to _Trigun _as well, since it was Vash the Stampede that basically pioneered the way I characterize Keitaro's philosophy. Sure, he does less (intentional) skirt-chasing _per se_, but the level of hidden skill, the willingness to suffer for others to an extreme fault, and the steadfast desire to preserve _all _life as much as possible positively scream the best parts of both Vash and Keitaro. Also, another reviewer shout out: there you go, Riostarter1214. Hopefully, that was a bit more to your liking (it was to mine!). Given the way things are going, I doubt it will be the last...but honestly, there's more (and probably better) stuff on AFF than there is on this site if you're still looking...

Next time: tensions rise as the good guys bug out, bound for confrontation with a higher order of enemy. Stick around, for nothing is ever as it seems() seems() seems()…


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